


When Eternity Lies In The Balance

by deathmarkedlove_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 87,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmarkedlove_archivist/pseuds/deathmarkedlove_archivist
Summary: The Slayer's sacrifice was not supposed to happen. Spike gets tapped by the Powers That Be to fix the grievous error, but the vampire doesn't work or play well with others. He is not pleased with the PTB's suggestions, either. S/B eventually, otherwise what's the point? R





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The story's mine - the characters aren't. Neither is Sunnydale, LA, or...well, heaven for that matter. I'm time-sharing the Oracle's chamber, though - does that count?? Don't sue me. Please.
> 
> Spoilers: All of it - the whole kit and caboodle. Every single one of the 100 eps are fair game here (If you haven't seen 'The Gift' yet you may not want to read this)
> 
> Distribution: I'm thinking yeah...as long as I know where it's going beforehand and my name is on it.
> 
> Summery: Spike gets tapped by the Powers That Be to restore the way things should be. Problem is, Spike doesn’t work and play well with others. He is none too pleased with the PTB’s suggestions, either. S/B eventually, otherwise what's the point?
> 
> Rated: R
> 
> Note: “italicized words” equal mind speech.
> 
> Dedications: Kelly, I don’t have the words to tell you what you mean to me. You are the reason, and I thank you. Helen, Trish, and Isabelle – you’ve all been staunchly supportive, and you deserve a bucketful of gratitude for being patient with my many neurosis. Thanks.

In a room with walls of marble and a floor of granite, two entities stood anxiously by and stared into the dark pool of water at their feet. Images flashed in the reflecting surface and the entities frowned as one as they watched the players struggle against their fate. Despite their efforts, it was soon over and the dimensional walls fell before the entities' speculative gaze.

Hell, all manner of Hell, had been released as it was foretold, though they had observed the warriors’ futile battle to prevent such a thing from ever happening. Nothing foretold ever failed to come to pass, however, and such grave matters as an apocalypse were closely monitored by the creatures whose job it was to maintain the balance between the forces of dark and the forces of light, not just in the world they were currently observing, but in all worlds and all dimensions.

All in all, things were progressing nicely.

The entities started to relax.

It had been a close thing, a near disastrous thing, they thought. The girl, the Slayer as she was called, had almost succeeded in preventing the walls from falling. One of the two entities frowned at the child's unpredictability. There was no telling with that one, she thought, and her companion - her brother - heard the words in his head as if his sister had spoken them aloud.

 _“It is that unpredictability that has kept her on our path,”_ he chided his sister mentally. _“Were it not for the strength of her will and her, shall we say, stubborn personality, the foretold would have been in jeopardy.”_

A mental grumble was the only reply and he chuckled.

_“Come now, sister, all is as it should be. The walls are down. Soon they will come back up and the balance will be maintained. The girl will continue on the road set for her and we will enjoy the play as it unfolds before us.”_

The scene did continue to unfold before their discerning eyes. They watched as their tool, the Slayer, tried to send The Key away from the opening portal. The Key turned, and they listened to her - for energy had been transmuted to form as it was written - explain to the Slayer that she needed to close the portal before more creatures could come through.

All was as it should be. The Slayer will allow the sacrifice, comprehending the duty set before her, and all will be in balance.

So engrossed were they in the scene before their eyes, the entities failed to notice the slight rippling of waves in the Waters of Time and Space, the pool that contained both the history and future of the eternal orders of the universe. Even had they noticed, there would have been little time to react, and their powers insufficient to prevent the unseen conflict, besides.

With no warning, they watched in growing alarm as the Slayer turned, and as if in slow motion, leapt off the two hundred foot high scaffolding and into the dimensional portal. The response to that action was not long in coming, and the entities shielded their eyes from the flash of light that preceded the restoration of the walls between dimensions.

The entities were silent. They stared in horrified fascination as the group of humans clustered around the body of their fallen warrior.

It was the sister who pulled herself together first. Frantic to discover the affect of this unseen occurrence, she waved her hand over the pool and brought future events into focus. Normally stoic and rigidly unemotional at the things that they had seen over an eternity of watching and guiding, they both gasped in surprise at the darkness and evil that was yet to be unleashed.

"This is not good," said the brother. His thoughts were in too much turmoil to attempt mind speech.

His sister whirled on him, angry and irritated. He winced slightly at the force of her mental reprimand.

 _“No. It is not. She is as she was made. Her...stubbornness, as you so graciously put it, has thrown off the balance completely. This was unforeseen. Do you see this?"_ She waved her hand quickly over the watery images displayed at their feet. _"None of this was supposed to happen. Look at what she has done!”_

The world's light, the universe's light was quickly being extinguished before them. It was a grim reality and they knew they had to stop it. The brother wasn't entirely sure what to do or what to think. By all accounts, the Slayer should have allowed The Key to fulfill its destiny.

"It was her sister, you fool." She interrupted his thoughts, after reading them, of course, and spoke in a ragged whisper. "She was not just human form, she was made from the Slayer. She was her sister. I warned you about that."

The brother winced at the reminder. It was true; his sister had been against allowing the transformation to human form. He was never going to hear the end of it, and there was an eternity yet to exist with her. A glance down at the future of carnage and despair made him realize that an eternity spent watching this new reality would be unbearable indeed, especially when combined with being tormented by his twin.

"We will fix this," he said to her, trying to inflect a small degree of confidence into his voice. "We can still fix this."

The sister glanced at her brother, a coldly impersonal look on her face. "No, brother. You have done enough. I will fix this."

She turned back the pages of time on the pool and reopened the chapter to the current events. The friends of the Slayer were still collected around her body and the entity reached out her mental powers to weigh the heart, mind, and soul, of each of them. They were warriors, though not as effective as the Slayer, and it was among them that she would find the one to assist her. On her third scan she stopped, tilting her head to listen to the thoughts of the one she was reading. A small smile teased the corners of her lips and she stood back from the pool.

Glancing at her brother, who had been watching her perform, she stretched out an arm and pointed down at the creature displayed in the pools reflection.

"That one. He is the one."

She clapped her hands imperiously and was rewarded with a hasty reply to her summons. One of the many assistants that were at their beck and call appeared at her elbow.

She pointed out the one she wanted and said, "Bring him to us. Now."

With little more than a stir of cool air, the assistant was gone. The entities waited anxiously for his return.

And for the arrival of the vampire that would help them.


	2. Chapter 2

It was over. The dimensional walls were back in place. The Scooby Gang shuffled slowly toward the body of a fallen friend, tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts.

No one was sure what had happened. The world hadn’t ended, so Buffy had succeeded in preventing the apocalypse, but at what cost? Losing Dawn, as they knew they must have – there was no other way to close the walls to the dimensions once open - was bad enough. But losing Buffy, not knowing how or why, that tore each and every one of them apart.

Spike, with one look at the broken body of the woman he loved, pressed his hands over his eyes and sobbed out his failure. He had been given a job, he’d made a promise, and he had failed. Dawn was gone. Buffy was gone.

He’d promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. The world was still here, she wasn't. And he had lost Buffy, too. He had failed utterly. And he was riddled with self-loathing and despair.

 _She was wrong to treat me like a man_ , he thought. _She should never have trusted me with it. She should’ve bloody well known better. She might still be alive, at least. And Nibblet, I'm so sorry, pet. It should have been me, not you, not big sis. It should’ve been me._

Dawn, tears in her eyes, stepped away from the metal edifice that was supposed to have meant her death and moved in jerky paces to the body of her sister. Her savior. She didn't notice the gasps of surprise and shock as the gang saw her approach. She was oblivious to their muted relief that she was, in fact, still alive against all odds.

The gang held back, stunned disbelief and grief holding them in place as the reality of what must have happened slowly started to sink in. Buffy was dead. The Slayer had made the only choice she could once the walls had fallen. She had been a true hero. She had found a way to save them all.

Moving into a shaft of early morning sunlight, Dawn kept her eyes trained on the body of the person she had loved most in the world.

 _It's too hard, Buffy_ , she thought to her sister. _I can't do this without you. How can I live as you asked, how can you expect me to?_

Swamped by guilt and overcome by grief, Dawn collapsed at her sister's side and wept.

 _How long has it been since I was made human_ , she wondered. _Nine months? A little less? And look what my existence has caused. Death, pain, war. None of this should have happened._

Giles watched Dawn and ached for her. He ached for them all. There were no words to express the loss he felt at the death of his Slayer, his Buffy. She had meant more to him than even a daughter would have, and the only thing he knew now was that this world didn't deserve to survive if it continued to ask such sacrifices from such pure souls.

The Watcher realized that against everything that was written, Buffy had found a way to keep her sister alive and save the world at the same time. Of course she would, how had he ever doubted it, she was the Chosen One.

Here they were, all of them save one. Alive…hurt but alive…and all because of Buffy's strength of character. It would be up to him, now, to guarantee that her sacrifice had not been made in vain. They were a family, Dawn's only real family, and Buffy would want each and every one of them to watch out for her sister.

She had sacrificed her life for Dawn, for all of them, and now it was their time to give a little back for that gift. The feeling of responsibility didn't lessen the pain - it hurt so very, very much - but it allowed room for direction and purpose.

Dawn felt the gentle pressure on her shoulder and she raised her tear-stained face to the gentle and compassionate gaze of the Watcher. Despite the false memories the monks had given her, memories of a father's love, Dawn knew that the man standing over her had been more of a father to her than anyone else. And she knew that even with Buffy's real history with their dad, Giles had always been more of a father to her as well. That's when she remembered the words, the last words her sister spoke to her before she had done the unthinkable.

Dawn rose on shaky legs and took a step back from Giles' now questioning gaze. There was purpose in her expression and determination in her posture. Wide blue eyes scanned the group, stopping on each one in turn, until she came to the huddled and sobbing form on her far left.

Spike. She ached to comfort him, ached to be comforted by him, because Dawn knew that he above all others had loved Buffy as much and as desperately as she herself did. And she knew that he was just as alone now, as well. But it wasn’t time yet. There was a message to be told.

The sun kissed her shoulders and turned her long, dark hair into spun gold. The group, with the exception of Spike, who was so wrapped in his own agony he hadn't noticed Dawn's approach, watched in awe as the pain of losing a sister was transformed into determination. With Buffy's last words waiting to be spoken, Dawn had become, not the weakest amongst them, but the strongest.

"She had a message for all of us," she said, her voice strong and clear despite the loss she was feeling. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Spike's head jerk in surprise at her voice as he noticed her standing there for the first time.

"She told me it was the work she had to do. She said to tell you, Giles, that she figured it out, and that she was okay. She loved all of you; she wanted you to know that. She loved me, too. Buffy said we have to take care of each other, and that I have to be strong - but I think we all do. She said the hardest thing in this world was to live in it. We need to be brave and live. For her."

No sooner was the message given then Dawn broke down once more. She was instantly blanketed in Giles' warm embrace and she sobbed out her pain in his arms. When she felt the drops of wetness hitting the top of her head she knew he, too, was grieving tearfully.

One by one the rest of the gang stepped forward to hug her and tell her how much they loved her. They told her they would each be there for her and for each other. They were a family, united in the dying wish of their friend. There was no blame, no recriminations. Grief, yes, they were all pounded relentlessly by grief, but they also had their love for each other.

Except for Spike. He held back, was held back by the glare of the morning sun. He couldn't go to Dawn. He couldn't really believe she was still alive. Somehow it seemed that he was being given a chance to redeem himself to Buffy by following through on his pledge to protect her sister until the end of the world. The end hadn't come last night, and now he had an undead eternity to as he promised. The agony of losing Buffy was in no way lessened by the gift, but he wasn’t quite so raw.

Shuffling his feet in aggravation, he cursed the inability to get near her. He had to watch as each of the gang got to ease a small part of their suffering by the blessing of contact with all that was left of the Slayer. Not him, though, he stood alone. He had always been on the outside, alone and lonely, when it came to these people. There was no comfort to be had for the monster.

Dawn leaned in and kissed Tara on the cheek, thrilled that whatever magick Willow used had brought one of her favorite people back to them. It was bittersweet but real. She turned to Giles, who was leaning over Buffy, getting ready to carry her out of there, when she saw Spike.

The naked longing on his face told her everything she needed to know. He raised a hand to her, a tragic wisp of a smile on his lips but he came no closer. She frowned, not understanding at first why he held himself back when it was so obvious he wanted to be included on this small session of grief therapy. Then she remembered. The sun. He couldn't come any closer, how stupid of her not to realize.

With a sob she stepped around Xander, who was supporting Anya's weight after letting her down from his arms to hug Dawn, and threw herself into the shadows. Into the arms of the vampire.

Spike was stunned by the effusive display. He hadn't known what to expect, but was overwhelmed by her obvious affection. It was more than he had ever hoped to have.

Wrapping tight arms around the girl, he whispered in her ear so the others couldn't hear. "I was afraid you didn't make it, Nibblet. I was so afraid you didn't make it."

His voice cracked and tears were threatening to fall again but he continued. "I can't believe she's really gone. I loved her so much. I lived for her, ya know? Would have bloody well died for her and she's gone. I don't know what to do, pet, tell me what to do."

Dawn squeezed him tightly, gaining comfort as she gave it. She pulled back slightly and stared into his eyes. She saw the torment in them and new that it mirrored her own.

"We do just what she asked us to do, Spike, we live." With a gentle touch she traced her finger down one bloodied cheek. "You did everything you could, Spike. I saw it. I know it. There was nothing else you could have done. Buffy would have known it too. She would have been grateful."

The smile he gave her was wry and self-doubting. "Nice thought, pet, and I appreciate the effort. There won't be a day that goes by, though, that I won't think of her and know I could have stopped Doc from doing what he did to you. And if I had, she'd be alive. That's my bloody cross to bear."

She shook her head at him, wanting him to understand that there was no blame to be had, no guilt that should be felt for his actions but he reached up and gripped her head gently in his hands.

"It's okay, Little Bit, don’t worry ‘bout me. I have to tell you something." He took a deep breath that he didn't need just to calm down.

"Buffy told me somethin' last night. Told me she was counting on me to protect you. I gave her my word that I would, until the end of the world. Now, it wasn't last night like we thought, and you're still here." He looked away in embarrassment briefly before continuing. "I guess what I'm bulloxin' my way through here is this...what I pledged to Big Sis I now pledge to you. Until the end of your days or the end of mine, I will be here to protect you from anything that could pop up. Seein' as this is good old Sunnyhell, I'm sure there'll be bad brewin’ soon ‘nough. Nothin', and I mean nothin' is ever going to get to you. Or if they do, they'll have to go through one mightily pissed off vampire to do it."

Dawn trembled at the intensity of his words. She had nothing to say, and was stunned by the ferocity he showed at even the thought of someone trying to hurt her. It made her feel safe; it made her feel protected. It made her feel special. But then again, she was special, wasn't she? She was the Slayer's little sister. And with Spike around she would never be alone.

Smiling gently at him, she turned, grabbed his hand, and dragged him through the shadows and around to where the group now stood watching them. Spike noticed their curious stares and the surprising absence of the hostility that was so common when dealing with him, but his eyes were drawn to Buffy's limp form being cradled in the arms of the Watcher. Even in death she was beautiful.

 _For you, luv_ , he thought to her. _Everything I do and will do is for you. Don't worry about Dawn, I will always protect her. You have my word._

Giles spoke as the two joined them. "It's time to go. There are...arrangements to be made."

No one questioned him; they knew what he was referring to. They turned, walking in four sets of pairs, Tara and Willow supporting each other, Xander carrying Anya once again because she was too weak to stand for long on her own, Giles with the body of the Slayer in his arms, and Dawn and Spike, hands gripped tightly against their shared pain. They walked away from the scene of so much horror and headed home.

A crack of thunder and an eye searing flash spun them around in surprise and they girded themselves for whatever impending catastrophe was on its way.

Giles quickly lay Buffy down and turned, the witches summoned their magicks, and Xander set Anya back on her feet, both moving to battle ready status. They stared in horror as a white light formed before them as if reality was being sliced wide. A vertical tear in the air opened as they watched.

Spike pushed Dawn behind him and threw on his game face, ready to fight to the death for her.

As the light grew and the seam separated, the group squinted against the increasing brightness. The wind picked up, it howled and screamed as if the atmosphere itself was crying out in pain from the wound being inflicted on it. The tails of Spike's duster slapped painfully against Dawn's legs, but she took an instinctive step closer to his back, huddled in fear of what she was seeing.

"What the bloody hell is happening, Giles?" Spike screamed over the wind.

"I-I have no idea." He called back, using his body to shield the Slayer's from further damage. "This shouldn't have anything to do with Glory. Everyone, prepare yourselves."

 _Right_ , the vampire thought sarcastically, _like I needed the bugger to tell me that._

The seam before them stretched wider and suddenly the gang could see something approaching from within the light. A very large and non-human looking something. The group exchanged confused glances, fear replacing the grief in their eyes. But they were the Slayerettes, the Scooby Gang, and fear was nothing compared to what they had each gone through last night.

Willow grasped Tara's hand tightly, preparing to zap whatever was approaching with her energies, much as she had done to Glory after she had brain-drained her love. She could feel the gathering forces of magicks and her vision narrowed, blocking out all but the approaching evil.

Spike stared, horrified, as the creature stepped out of the light and into their reality. It was huge. A good three feet taller than the vampire himself. And it looked to have spent some serious time working out; it was one walking mass of muscle. Scaly red skin covered the body and it had a face that would stop a clock. He girded himself for a quick and extremely painful encounter and threw himself at the creature.

Willow's mind call stopped him within feet of the thing. _“Spike, no! Let me try first! Hit the dirt!”_

Spike, still a little weirded out by Willow's ability to get into his head, did as he was told and dropped to the ground. A powerful bolt of electrical energy passed a few feet over him. He could feel the crackle of it in the air. He looked up to see what effect, if any, it would have on the demon standing in front of him.

The demon was big but it moved fast. Reaching up one clawed fist, it seemed to catch the ball of energy and hold it.

Willow's eyes widened in surprise. That was not supposed to happen. She wasn't given the time to try again. It stared at each of them, a sharp tooth grimace - possibly a grin - split its ugly features and it shoved the energy ball into its mouth, chewing slowly and with apparent pleasure.

"Okay, so maybe not trying that one again," mumbled Willow.

Spike leapt to his feet and prepared to attack the creature, a brave but decidedly foolhardy move according to Dawn, who reached out to grab the tail of his duster as he moved. He glanced back briefly, gave her a saucy smile and a wink, and threw himself at the creature. The rest of the gang moved forward as one to help.

Spike hit the creature's chest hard and was caught, quite painfully, in its grasp. It stared down at the vampire and smiled again, or at least Spike thought it was a smile, he wasn't quite sure.

Xander had picked up a discarded ax and swung at one of the legs of the beast, Anya tried to get in a swing with her bat. Willow and Tara were trying to throw together a sleep spell and Giles cocked the crossbow and shot, aiming at the face of the beast.

With the exception of the crossbow arrow, the attacks bounced off the creature. The arrow didn't even get a chance to strike home. The creature lifted Spike a bit and he felt the arrow slam into his right shoulder.

"OWW! Bloody hell!" He hollered.

Giles had the presence of mind to look guilty. "Damn, sorry 'bout that."

Spike struggled against the grip, but the creature didn't lessen it hold. Dawn, trying to help, ran up to them and grabbed Spike by the leg, trying to pull him away from the demon. Fighting against the resistance, the creature flexed its claws, which sent all twelve of its razor sharp talons into Spike's arms, chest, and sides. His holler turned into a bellow of pain.

Dawn jumped back, upset that she had done more harm then good.

A pulse of energy emanating from the creature hit the gang and sent them tumbling back several feet. They tried to pick themselves up but they knew it was too late. The last thing each one of them saw was a struggling Spike, disappearing into the rip in the air, held firmly in a demons grasp.

Once swallowed, the seam repaired itself, the wind died down, and the Scooby Gang stared in horror at the now empty space where Spike had last been.

Dawn, shaken and afraid, stood slowly and looked around. A torturous expression set hard on her face as she turned and looked at Giles. Her voice was ragged and the events of the evening were weighing heavily upon her.

All she could manage was a small, "He's gone," before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted at his feet.


	3. Chapter 3

Spike struggled against the beast that had him firmly in its grasp, despite the blades of fiery heat that were lancing into his body. He dimly noticed the tear that the creature came through close up behind him. Dawn's terrified face was the last thing he saw and his mind screamed out in fury at being ripped so unceremoniously away from his duties as watchdog for the Slayer's sister.

Ranking tops on his list of worst days ever, a spot previously held by - but totally eclipsing - the day the Initiative shoved that chip in his skull, the past twenty-four hours had bore witness to the whole spectrum of Spike emotions. This latest affront was just too much to take on top of a huge list of things that were too much to take.

For long minutes he thrashed, cursed profanely, bled profusely, and thrashed some more. Nothing he did seemed to have any affect on either the body or the stride of the demon holding him. Just after acknowledging that he couldn't fight his way out of the demon's grip, the creature's hold on him shifted. Hope that he was slipping free flared briefly but was quickly dashed as he was flipped around and tossed over the creature's wide shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Spike tried to see where he was, or to be more precise given his current position, where he had been, but the path behind him was just an unbroken wall of unrelenting blackness. Then again, it's possible that his blood, following the laws of gravity, was dripping from his chest onto his face and obscuring his vision. He didn't know which it was and it struck him that it really didn't matter, he was just as helpless to save himself either way. At least the creature's claws were no longer slicing into his body unmercifully.

_Better to suffer the slings and arrows of indignity than the more solid type, mate._

The wry thought did little to soothe either his temper or his growing fear.

With each step the creature took, Spike could feel himself growing weaker and weaker. He lost track of how long they moved, but he knew he wouldn't be able to survive much more in the way of blood loss and remain mentally intact.

Losing all his blood wouldn't kill him, but as he explained to Giles once, a vampire running on empty wasn't a pretty sight. They tended to be little more than walking skeletons and not all there in the smarts department. And something told him if he had any chance at all of surviving whatever beef this creature had with him he would need to be at his tops with the wit and wisdom.

As Spike's strength waned he started fading in and out of consciousness. After what seemed like hours of dangling from the creature's shoulder, his mind started to play wicked little tricks on him.

Buffy was alive and everything was fine. He had saved Dawn and won Buffy's support and admiration. He had killed Glory just as she was preparing to crush Buffy's skull and Buffy was so thankful she kissed him again like she had in his crypt after the whole being vamp napped by Glory thing. Buffy kissed him, Buffy loved him, Buffy wanted him.

They were dreams, all of them, and farfetched ones at that. During his more lucid moments he knew the truth. He didn't care. They gave him comfort. It was all that he had left, and he knew that, too.

His favorite little exsanguination-induced dream was part fact, part fantasy. Earlier that evening (Yesterday? He didn't know anymore.), when he had gone with Buffy to get some weapons and a change of clothes for the Buffybot, Buffy invited him back into her house. He was pretty sure that was fact, along with his words to her - words that needed saying before they went into the battle of their lives. The memory was so vivid it had to be real.

"I know you'll never love me,” he’d said. “I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man."

He was going to say something else before embarrassment and common sense stopped him, he remembered that.

The part that was vague, the part Spike feared was a dream, was when Buffy smiled down at him in response and said, "You are a man, Spike. I treat you like a man because that's what you are. You're a monster, too, it's true, but you are far more man than you are monster. It wasn't always like that. It is now."

That's all she says. No words of love, no kisses or warm embraces, just that. And still it was Spike's favorite out of all of them. It was the one that gave him the most comfort. It was the one, when he clawed his way back into consciousness and remembered the dreams for what they were, that made him ache in misery. It was the one, when he tumbled back into oblivion, that he wanted to have again and again. He didn't know why.

During one of the more lurid dreams, Spike felt a sudden change in the atmosphere around him. It was significant enough to drag him back into awareness and he opened his eyes on the red, scaly backside of the demon carrying him. Normally that wouldn't be considered a good thing, but he could see it, which is more than he had been able to do before. He wasn't blinded by blood. It had been the darkness that prevented him from seeing where he had come from.

Just being able to see again re-ignited his fury at his circumstance and he dug deep into himself to pull forward a new burst of energy. With a clench of his aching muscles and a twist of his battered but wiry frame he managed to push himself off of the demon's shoulder and slide down one muscled arm.

Unfortunately, it did little to help. The demon was just too fast and caught him up easily in one meaty and talon-tipped claw.

Then, much to Spike's astonishment, the demon swung its arm back and - treating him as if he was nothing more than an oddly shaped bowling ball - sent him rolling, butt over brains, along the length of a very hard stone floor. His body came to an abrupt stop when he collided quite painfully with a marble pillar of some sort.

He lay where he was tossed for a few seconds and tried to get his addled mind to catch up with his shaken-not-stirred body. Glaring balefully at the demon responsible for his pain, Spike managed to get his feet underneath him and he rose slowly. He didn't know what the demon planned next in the way of torture the vampire, but Spike tried to be ready for whatever it was. If he was going down, he'd go down fighting, and damn the pain and blood loss.

Had the Big Bad been able to see himself, he would have been amused. He swayed on wobbly legs, one arm curled protectively around several severe lacerations - not to mention a good many broken bones (lest he forget he took a two hundred foot dive off of a Hell God's tower of terror just hours - minutes? - ago), and he had blood dripping down his face, chest, and arms. Still, he stood ready to fight the demon in front of him. A demon, by the way, that was several feet taller and several times larger than the vampire himself. Yes, if it weren't for the physical and emotional agony, Spike would have been very amused.

What the demon did next completely flummoxed the already reeling vampire, however. It changed. Literally. One minute...huge, scaly, scary, red demon - the next...short, squat, smooth-skinned, not scary, blue demon. Spike wiped a tattered leather sleeve over his eyes to clear them and looked again. It un-muddied the picture a little, but the image was the same. The red beast was gone, and in its place was a blue marshmallow-looking thing. Spike smiled viciously. This was something he could fight.

A low growl rumbled out of his chest and he ran his tongue over one of the elongated canines of his game face. "Well, well," he said, smiling sarcastically, "someone's big evil batteries run down? Let's see...whatever shall I do? Oh, I've got it. How 'bout I kill you?"

The little puffy blue guy either didn't understand Spike, or had no fear of his words, because he took several tottering steps towards the mightily pissed off and royally injured vampire with its hands outstretched like some blueberry baby doll. Shifting his weight to his back leg, Spike prepared to drop the little beastie with a spinning swing kick as soon as it got in range.

_**"DESIST!"** _

The air practically vibrated at the thunderous command. Spike forgot all about the blue demon the instant that order rang out. It was loud, so loud in fact that he had no idea if he actually heard the word or just felt it. Either way, it was loud enough to cause pain, and he gripped his head in response.

He spun wildly, noticing the room he was in for the first time since being rolled across the floor.

The walls were a pinkish-gray marble, the floor was black stone of some kind. There were pillars, he knew that when he collided with one, but he saw that there were nine of them spaced evenly throughout the room, supporting the ceiling, and they were carved with Grecian or Roman architecture in mind. There was no furniture to speak of and the only thing that would catch a person's eye was the black stairway leading up to a domed archway.

Well, that and the two people (Spike doubted 'people' was the right word, but at the moment he was at a loss for something more descriptive) standing at the top of those steps and staring down at him imperiously.

Spike gaped at the two figures with an unflattering, slack-jawed expression on his face. His human face, as the bumpy forehead/sharp tooth look disappeared at the 'desist' command. They were a surprise, to say the least. Spike had no idea anyone but the demon was in the room with him.

_Must be hurt worse than you thought, mate, not to notice those two. Not exactly dressed for subtly now, are they?_

No sooner did the words pop into his head than the male of the pair smiled slightly and glanced down at his gold and silver toga and sandals before raising an arm and examining his gold and green skin with mock intensity. Spike was left with no illusions over their ability to read his mind.

Bloody hell. What's with the mind power bit? Everyone wake up all clued in to my bleedin' brain waves this mornin'?

At the thought, his mind flashed back to Willow and her call to send him up the tower that Glory's people built for the sacrifice. His memories led him directly to his failure to stop Doc and the broken body of the Slayer. All mockery and attempts at sardonic humor fled.

He didn't know who these two were, and quite frankly he couldn't care less, but they were probably the reason he was here. And the gold and green female didn't look terribly impressed with his thoughts at all. She was far more serious in her demeanor and expression than the gold and green male.

Spike did notice the definite familial resemblance between the two that transcended the body color and clothing duplication. Length of hair and height were the only characteristics that differentiated them. Brother and sister he would guess, and the female, who was still glaring down her aquiline nose at him, nodded her head once as if in reply.

_Okay, Spike. Time to make nice with the oddly colored creatures._

"We are not creatures," was the woman's immediate and scornful reply. "We are entities. Oracles, to be precise. So mind your thoughts, vampire."

Spike started slightly in surprise at the woman's voice. He hadn't expected it to be quite so...melodious, given her austere countenance. It was also a bit of a shock to his ears, as only a sudden sound in a vacuum of silence could be. In his defense, he recovered quickly.

"Oracles. Right then. Well, if you don't mind, I'll be with you in a minute. I have to kill the bastard that put all these lovely little holes in my body, not to mention my favorite jacket."

Spike turned his back on the wonder twins and moved to accost the little blue demon. He was actually surprised that the bugger had hung around, but he was still there, a few feet away, and staring at the Oracles with rapt fascination.

 _Easer than stealing smokes from a cripple_ , Spike thought. He thought it on purpose, knowing the two standing on their holier-than-thou dais were listening. It was a mistake.

Just after he took his first step, he felt the full force of what could only be described as a mental slap smack into the side of his head and send him sprawling. He lay on the unforgiving ground and stared at the ceiling for a second before shaking his head to clear it of the remnants of the attack. Spike lifted his head and stared wide-eyed at the pair.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" He cried. "You've seen what that violet blob did to me. Nothin' wrong with a little payback."

As he pulled himself back to his feet he noticed the blue demon hadn't even given him the courtesy to appear afraid. In fact, it didn't appear to have noticed Spike's approach and threats at all. It was still staring at the Oracles, oblivious to its surroundings.

Oddly, that made Spike feel a little guilty for trying to kill it. He shrugged the feeling off, chocking it up to residual softness from hanging around the Slayer and her Scooby troupe for too long. Then he regretted the knee-jerk blame that he placed.

What a mess. He was mixed up, emotionally torn, mentally exhausted, physically damaged, and he couldn't even work out his own logic anymore. It had been a really bad day. Spike gave up. He put away all his monsterish impulses and turned to face the Oracles like the man he had vainly hoped the Slayer would see him as.

The pair saw his emotional turmoil, saw the war he waged with himself, and heard the things that were running through his mind in a tumultuous bundle. The brother turned to his sister and smiled slightly.

_“That didn't take as long as I had feared it would.”_

She raised an eyebrow at him.

_“Of course not. I told you he would be the one we needed.”_

_“Yes, sister, you did. I never doubted you for a minute. Now, would you like to proceed or should I?”_

_“I will, brother.”_ She turned back to Spike in time to see the speculative gaze cross his face. He held his tongue, though, a point in his favor, and she decided it was time to tell him why he was here. “This should be interesting.”

She felt the brother’s soft mind chuckle as she started to speak.

"First, vampire, let us address the creature next to you. It did not inflict the wounds to your body. Nor is it responsible for your newly vented clothing. It is incapable of doing that kind of damage."

The sister heard the mental rumblings of disbelief. She heard Spike make a less than flattering comment about her parentage, but given the circumstances and given what he was, she chose to ignore it.

"The creature that did that to you was the Dialetylth. The creature next to you is a Borymous. Neither one are demons, both are from another dimension. The Borymous is a shape shifter, of sorts, and he is one of our many species of helpers. When he changes form he adopts the characteristics of the creature he becomes. The Dialetylth is familiar to his home dimension, and quite a nasty sort. I'm sure that was what was responsible for your injuries, not the Borymous."

Spike didn't quite catch the logic there and he said so.

"Wait a sec, luv. Let me get this straight. The Borymous is a shape shifter, turned into the Dialetyth, who did this to me. But I'm not supposed to hold one accountable for the actions of the other? How do you figure?"

The sister sighed. “So close, and yet...”

The brother did more than chuckle, he laughed outright in her mind.

_“Allow me, sister. I will make sure he understands.”_

She nodded in acquiescence.

"Let me make this easy on you, vampire," said the brother.

Spike's head swiveled in confusion to follow the strange cadence of speech from one to the other.

"Borymous have adapted. They are docile creatures that occasionally take on the nature of other, not so docile creatures for our sakes. As a result, they have certain properties that allow them to make up for any possible damage they may cause when they are using another form. Let him touch you."

Spike's jaw dropped in shock. "Let him touch me? Are you completely daft? There's no bloody way-"

**_“I SAID LET HIM TOUCH YOU!”_ **

There was no mistake this time. That thunderous command exactly matched the first he heard, and this time he knew it wasn’t a spoken command. Of their own volition, his hands came up to his head, probably to keep it from exploding from the force of the mental barrage of words.

"Okay! I get it! Let him touch me, right. Get on with it then." Spike wasn't happy, but he didn't want to risk another one of those vibrating furies of sound in his head. They hurt worse than the chip at full zap.

Soon it was done and Spike was once again completely flummoxed. The Borymous had not only healed his wounds with a touch, but his clothes were back in one piece, the blood was gone as if he hadn't spilled a drop, and even the bones he broke in the fall were repaired. To top it all off, he was clean and feeling well rested. The only pain left was the emotional, but Spike doubted any creature could heal that wound.

 _I have got to get me one of those_ , he thought, in reference to the blue creature.

He wasn't serious, and he flashed a slightly sheepish look at the Oracles, desperately hoping they wouldn't mind-slap him again, before muttering a quick, "Thanks," to the Borymous, who bowed deeply to him and promptly disappeared.

"Well then," he said, properly humbled, "I'm assuming you are the ones that brought me here. So, umm, why?"

The brother and sister exchanged glances and probably thoughts too, Spike guessed, before turning back to him.

"Do you know what Oracles are?" the sister asked.

"Haven't a clue," said Spike, "but I would rather this not take long. I've got responsibilities that require my attention."

"To The Key," the brother added, nodding. "Yes, we know. But it is important that you listen without interrupting."

Spike raised an eyebrow but remained quiet, even corralling his wayward thoughts and increasing panic at being away from Dawn for so long.

"The Oracles are seers and guides to the warriors that fight for the Powers That Be," explained the sister. "We provide assistance, when the Powers deem it necessary and the requesting warrior is worthy. Now, you are not a warrior for our side, vampire, yet you ally yourself quite strongly with one that is. We do not understand this, yet we do not need to. It is as we see it. Because of your unique situation we are prepared to offer you a solution to your problem. We are prepared to grant you your deepest desire. Tell us, Spike, what is it you most wish for?"

Of all the things that he could possibly conceive, this wouldn't have even been close to the list, let alone on it. If he understood correctly, these creatures - entities - were giving him a gift for helping the Slayer. And the gift was his deepest desire.

Never in one hundred and twenty-one years had Spike ever been more suspicious of anyone with the same intensity that he was suspicious of these beings. No one, not the 'Powers', certainly not these 'Oracles' gave a damn about him. That begs the question - what are they really after?

Spike knew there was only one way to find out.

The answer was simple. What is the one thing he most wished for? It's funny, six months ago the thing that he wanted most in the world was to have that government chip taken out of his brain. Six weeks ago it was for Buffy to love him as he loved her. The chip wasn't even in the top three - funny how things change. After last night, there was only one thing on the list. Hell, that one thing was the list.

Spike wanted Buffy alive. She could hate him, stake him, spit on him; it didn't matter. Spike just wanted Buffy to not be dead.

The sister had been reading Spike's mind. So had the brother, actually, but it was the sister that answered the unspoken desire. The desire that the Oracles knew was the only answer the vampire would ever give them.

"Your wish can be granted," she told him.

Spike sincerely despised having those beings in his head, poking around his thoughts. And he didn't like the way the sister had worded her response, either. A vampire didn't live much longer than twenty years if he wasn't cautious by nature, and Spike was very, very cautious. He had the strange feeling that he was being manipulated, but going in with that feeling should keep him from getting royally shagged.

He raised his head stared at them seriously. "Alright. I'll bite. What do you want me to do?"

"That's quite simple, actually," said the sister.

"We will set time back," the brother continued the thought.

"And you will save the Slayer." The Oracles finished together.

Spike looked at them in stunned disbelief, not only at their ability to finish each other's thoughts, but at what they were suggesting. Hope started to blossom in his chest. If he could go back, do things differently, everything would change.

"Well, alright,” he said, clapping his hands together once in excitement. “Now you're talkin'. How 'bout you set the dial back a bit? Back to when we were all in the RV, before Giles got shishkebobbed. If the Watcher doesn't get hurt, Doctor Boy doesn’t get called. And what with Ben being Glory and all, the royal she-bitch won't get her mitts on Nibblet before her time runs out. No ritual, no Buffy fatal plunge. Bloody brilliant."

He rambled on a while longer before he noticed the Oracles weren't nearly as impressed with his suggestions as he had hoped. Suddenly, things around the campfire seemed a lot less friendly.

The sister was the one that actually said the words Spike was afraid one of them was going to say.

"That is not a possibility. The Key must be used to open the dimensional walls. Balance must be maintained. We will turn back the hands of time to your ascent up the tower. You will wait until the demon uses The Key to open the door, then you will allow The Key to sacrifice itself to bring the walls back up. This is how it will be."

Spike was a rather frenetic vampire by nature, always moving, always doing something - until recently generally up to no good. He got itchy when things moved too slowly or he couldn't release some of his restless energy. He was rarely calm, even less was he ever still. As the sister spoke, however, and the meaning behind her words sunk in, both a strange calm and a death-like stillness descended upon Spike's body. He listened to the sister and felt a kind of peace that he had never experienced before - or at least not since he was a human child, perhaps. With that peace came absolute clarity of thought. An understanding, finally, of what the Oracles were really after and why he had been chosen.

In the few minutes that the Oracles instructed Spike on what he was to do, everything about Spike shifted slightly, became more in line, more in tune, more right. For a vampire, it was almost a kind of Nirvana. For Spike, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again. It was a unique feeling.

He waited calmly, patiently even, for the female Oracle to finish gracing the lowly vampire with her 'gift' of the Slayer's life. And when finished, in the moments of silence following the wonderful bounty they had bestowed on the soulless villain, Spike serenely smiled.

In a quiet and even tone, he looked at them both and said, "Go bugger yourselves."

"Wh-what did you say?" the Oracles stuttered simultaneously, utter disbelief obvious on their faces.

 _Oh, I think you heard me the first time_ , he thought, keeping the smile firmly planted on his lips. _But what the hell, I'll repeat myself just because I had so much fun the first go 'round. Go. Bugger. Yourselves._

"B-But," they muttered, so alike even their stammering replies came out in one blended voice. "w-we d-don't understand. T-This is what y-you want most. W-we are giving you your deepest d-desire."

Feeling in control for the first time since, well since before he'd even heard the name 'Glory' actually, Spike grinned another dashingly attractive grin at the blithering pair and started to pace slowly back and forth along the bottom of the stairway with feline grace.

"Are you now? Hmmm. Let's examine exactly what you're _offerin'_ , shall we? You want me to go back, allow the walls separatin’ the dimensions to fall, then sit idly by as ‘The Key’ - who happens to have a name, by the way, lets use it - so, sit idly by as Dawn leaps to her death so that the Slayer, who also has a name – Buffy - can survive to continue to fight in your little war of good against evil. How'm I doin' so far? Dead on balls, right?"

Judging by the Oracles’ amazingly accurate impressions of landed fish, he decided to take that as a yes and continue.

"Okay, then, on we go. Now, I'm guessin’ that you two 'seerers' and 'guides' looked into your great big crystal balls," Spike caught the brother's glance down at the small pool of water at his feet and put two and two together. "Or should I say...cement pond of water, and watched the little battle that we staged for your amusement yesterday. Except I'm guessin’ that things didn't exactly go as you planned. Buffy wasn't supposed to die, was she? She was supposed to do what any other Slayer would have done and allowed Dawn to sacrifice herself for the greater good. It is, after all, what she did with Angel when he opened the door to hell with Acathla. She sent soul-boy straight to the devil like a good little Slayer should. Why wouldn't she do the same again? Boy, for a couple of all-knowing entities, you're really quite stupid, you know that?"

Spike was loving this. And he was hating this. It was quite possibly the single most bittersweet moment in his life, for he could torment these creatures, fail to give them the satisfaction they desire, refuse to play their games, but in the end, Buffy was no less dead. But he couldn't stop yet.

"So, Buffy refuses to play by your rules - which, by the way, was because she was more than just a bloody Slayer. That's where you lost. That's where I lost, too, back when I was tryin’ to do her in myself. She was much more than just a Slayer. She was a daughter, she was a sister, she was a friend. She was everythin’. Buffy had the one thing that you and your grand destinies could never strip from her, no matter how hard you tried. She had ties to the world. She had an understandin’ of sacrifice. And you want me to take that away from her. That's why you tapped me, right? I'm a vampire in love with the Slayer. A soulless monster with an obsession who would do anythin’ to get the object of that obsession back again, even toss aside the one person the Slayer loved more than life itself. I know. I get that a lot. People just don't get it."

As Spike's diatribe continued, he felt the calm receding, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of loss and disillusionment. All of the pain and fear he had seen on Dawn's face before the tear in space and time closed on him and the Dialetylth had been for nothing. It started to piss him off.

"It wasn't an obsession!" he shouted. "I loved her! I love her. I respected her courage and I stand behind her decisions. She wanted Dawn to live, and I will do everythin’ in my power as soon as you let me the bloody hell out of here to make sure that she lives as long and as happy a life as possible. I will always love Buffy. I will ache for her until the end of my days. But I will not betray her. And you know what? It's not just that losin' Dawn would destroy her, losin' Dawn would destroy me, too. I love her almost as much as I loved Buffy. And I didn't realize it until today. Find another fool, people. I'm not playin'. Send me back. Dawn needs me. Buffy needs me. I'm not helpin' you do a soddin' thing."

To say the room was silent after Spike finally wound down was a gross understatement. No one breathed, no one spoke, no one moved. The Oracles had been set on their ears, severely reprimanded by the master of verbal put-downs. They stared at each other with horror and despair, for they had both seen the effects the Slayer's death had on eternity. But they also knew that the vampire before them would do nothing to aide in their goal to set things right. They had made a mistake, another mistake, and grossly underestimated the vampire as they had underestimated the Slayer. Was all lost?

"Hello?" Spike called to the two thunderstruck entities above him. "I'm ready to go home now! No sense hangin' ‘round here anymore."

The sister reached out her mind to her brother, apologizing for her error and receiving a wordless comfort in response. As soon as she felt his caring mental caress she had a thought. Not more than a half a heartbeat later he had the same thought seize him and they gazed at each other with trepidation, afraid to say the words out loud. In unison they spoke to each other's mind.

_“When eternity lies in the balance, even the Powers bend the unbendable rules.”_

They turned as one to the furious vampire below them and slowly descended the steps to where he stood. Spike watched with suspicion as they approached. When they were directly in front of him they smiled slightly, mirror images of each other. The brother reached out a hand and laid it on Spike's right shoulder, the sister did the same on Spike's left.

As one they spoke to him, their new warrior. "There is another way."

Spike didn't know if he liked the sound of that or not.


	4. Chapter 4

After Spike’s mysterious disappearance, the Scooby Gang had little choice but to head to the hospital. Xander had been the only one among them lucky enough to escape last night’s tragedy without injury, so he carried the unconscious Dawn out of the construction area. A weak but standing upright Anya had taken one look at the last surviving Summers girl - who had passed out next to the spot that Spike had disappeared from - and decided she wasn’t injured enough to need carrying. An occasional arm to lean on was all that was necessary and she could use Tara and Willow for that.

After being checked out in the emergency room, the doctors told Anya she had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, not to mention severe contusions on her upper body thanks to the bricks and other various asundry construction materials that had fallen on her. Surprisingly, the abnormally verbose ex-demon had little to say to the news, just a small “Oh,” before demanding information from the doctors on Dawn’s condition.

Xander had been in the room with her when she got the news and was both amazed and proud at the uncharacteristic selflessness of the woman he wanted as his wife.

Willow and Tara were both suffering general, all-over body bruises, but Willow had the added bonus of an irregular heartbeat that the doctors were unable to determine a cause for. She didn’t think it would be in her best interest to go into the possibilities of a ‘working big magicks’ cause.

Tara was relatively good, all things considered, besides the bruises she had only a laceration on the back of her head that required a couple of stitches and a re-fracturing of one of the bones in her crushed hand. The longer she had the use of all her mental functions, the easier it was to cope with what Glory did to her.

Giles was the most stubborn of the group, he refused treatment when he first got to the hospital, demanding instead to deal with all of the matters of Buffy’s death immediately, then focusing on Dawn to the exclusion of all else.

Perhaps it was guilt, guilt for suggesting that Buffy had no choice but to execute her sister if the dimensional walls fell, guilt for reminding Buffy that Dawn wasn’t really her sister to begin with, guilt for the knowledge that had it been left in his hands, the outcome of last night’s battle would have been vastly different. Yes, maybe guilt and definitely loss. But he knew that was why he was the Watcher and Buffy was the Slayer. And he was so proud of her. She never failed in her convictions.

As he had explained to Ben before...well, before he died, Buffy was a true hero.

After the arduous task of Buffy’s paperwork had been completed, a surreal and heartbreaking experience, Giles stayed by Dawn’s side with her cold, clammy hand in his until she woke. Only her insistence that he be checked out immediately once she regained consciousness was enough to pull him from her side. His spear wound had reopened and was bleeding again. A couple of staples, a pain pill, and he was back at Dawn’s side as if he’d never left.

Dawn appreciated it, too. She really did. But she was locked down in pain and couldn’t get her mind to go past losing Buffy. Or losing Spike.

As it turned out, she hadn’t collapsed just out of grief and fear. She had lost a lot of blood from the slices on her stomach before any of the Scoobies noticed she was bleeding. The dark, voluminous dress had hidden the knife wounds from everyone’s view. It wasn’t until Xander reached down to pick up her limp body that he noticed the wet marks and cuts in her clothing. After that, getting to the hospital had been a burning necessity. Each and every one of them was determined not to lose anyone else.

Physically they were all recovering, it was the emotional that was the real problem. They were all in a kind of dazed state. Reality hadn’t quite set in yet.

The idea that Buffy wasn’t going to pop into the magic shop with Dawn in tow to work out a little before class ever again, or that she would no longer be with them when they all went to the Bronze for some R & R, or that she wouldn’t worry too much, or take too much on her shoulders, or protect them, or fight for them, or fight beside them any more - none of that had really registered with any of them yet, except Dawn. And Dawn desperately wished she could be numb too.

She lay in her hospital bed, staring at the ceiling tiles and grieving for her sister in silence. When the pain of that tragic loss became too much to bear she turned her thoughts to the vanished Spike and grieved a different loss. Different, but no less painful for the difference.

Wherever he had been taken, she sincerely wished he could hold on until the group could mount a rescue attempt. The one thing she was sure of was that they would mount a rescue attempt. Even if she had to force every single one of the gang to do it.

She hadn’t told anyone, not even Buffy, but she loved Spike. Not in that teen crush kind of way like Buffy thought, but in the big brother that’s so cool I want to be just like him (except for the being a vampire) kind of way. They would get him back. She needed him. They needed each other.

“Please don’t give up, Spike,” she whispered softly, too softly to be heard by the hovering Giles. “We’re coming.”

 

*************

 

In another dimension, Spike stared hard at the two Oracles clutching his shoulders. His brow lowered in a speculative frown and he looked back and forth between the two of them.

They had said there was another way to get Buffy back but had fallen silent quickly thereafter, an identical faraway look on their faces. Basically, the lights were on but no one was home. It made Spike distinctly uncomfortable, especially as they hadn’t deigned to release him before their joint mental siesta. He squirmed.

After a couple of minutes dragged out into more like ten, Spike could no longer contain his irritation. “Hel-lo!” he said loudly, waving a hand in front of each of the sibling’s faces. “Kinda waitin’ to see what’s behind door number two, here!”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to get a response, the fed up vampire shoved the Oracles’ arms off of him - none too gently, either - and took several steps back. It didn’t take a genius to see they were communicating with someone, or something, but patience had never been one of Spike’s strong suits and he was already feeling rather wired from the need to get back to Dawn.

He leaned back against a pillar and reached into his coat pocket for his ever-present pack of smokes. Lighting up in the barren room seemed wrong somehow, but then again, that’s what he liked about it. He took a deep drag and cocked his head to stare through the haze of smoke at the odd pair across from him.

It wasn’t until he was midway through his third cigarette that the Oracles came back from wherever they had been. Spike had gotten bored in the interim and was walking around the room - searching for an exit, really - and hadn’t noticed the Oracles mental return.

_“Put that out **now!** ”_

The mental demand was such a surprise that Spike jumped, dropped the cigarette, and spun to face the Oracles all in one quick move. His game face emerged, courtesy of a surge of startled adrenaline. The golden eyes of the demon glared in hostility at the two entities and he growled at the sister.

“Christ, woman, give a bloke some warnin’ next time, why dontcha?!”

The sister stepped forward, not even slightly cowed by the appearance of the vampire features. “I most certainly will not! What, exactly, did you think you were doing?”

Spike simmered, but kept a hold on his temper. Whether he liked it or not, he was at the mercy of these two poofs. He shook his game face off and shrugged. “Gettin’ bloody well bored, that’s what.”

Sister and brother looked at each other. The seriousness in their expressions drew Spike’s attention away from his irritation and he waited to hear what was to come.

“I doubt that boredom will be an issue much longer,” said the sister.

The brother turned back to Spike. “The other way we referred to has been approved by the Powers.”

Spike waited to hear what he needed to do, a little anxious at the grave vibes being given off by the multi-colored pair. And he waited. And then, just because it seemed like a good idea - and because they didn’t seem all too willing to jump in with the explanations - he waited some more.

 _“I am not convinced the vampire will be able to do this,”_ the brother mind-spoke to his sister while Spike stared at them, growing more and more impatient.

 _“Neither am I,”_ came the mental response, _“but it is what we must offer. The Powers have decided to allow this. It is not our job to question their reasoning.”_

_“We will have to tell him everything. He must make his own choice.”_

_“Yes,”_ she thought, and there was a sad sound in her mind’s voice when she added, _“and somehow I think willingness may be a problem.”_

“You two wanna quit that mental mumbo jumbo and tell me what the other way is? ‘Cuz I gotta tell you, rude is not the way to get me to cooperate.” Spike was finished with being patient, finished with the feeling of being stretched out over hot coals while he waited for possible salvation from the hell that Buffy’s death put him in.

The Oracles took just enough time for a gentle, supportive mental caress to pass between them and they started to explain.

The sister took the initiative and spoke first. “You have been granted access to the realm that the Slayer now resides in.”

“Once there,” said the brother, “you will have to find her.”

“Once you find her,” the sister continued, “you will have to convince her to go back.”

“If and when she agrees to go back,” the brother spoke again, “she will come here.”

“We will return her to her body moments after her fall,” said the sister.

“And the Powers will allow life to be returned to her.” They said in unison.

From what Spike could tell so far, he was liking this plan a lot better than the previous one but he wanted to make sure of one thing.

“So, if I get her to come back, Buffy lives AND Dawn lives, right? ‘Cuz I’m not doin’ it if Dawn doesn’t make it.”

The Oracles actually smiled for the first time since coming back from their conference with the Powers.

“That is so,” assured the sister.

“Time will be returned to just after the Slayer’s sacrifice,” the brother told him.

“Both will be alive.” Again, they finished as one.

Nothing else was important to Spike, that’s all he needed to hear. “I’ll do it.”

Once his mind was made up, the anxiety and anguish he was feeling vanished. As soon as those feelings were gone, though, curiosity got the better of him. “You said Buffy’s in a different ‘realm’? What’s that all about? What realm is she in?”

The Oracles’ relief at the vampire’s quick decision to help was short-lived. They were bound by their duty to tell him everything, but they knew that once he heard the whole of it he might not be as willing. Glancing quickly at each other and sighing mentally as one, the brother answered Spike.

“The realm the Slayer is in has no name.”

“But it has been called many things throughout time,” added the sister.

“Many voices call out to it in many tongues,” the brother said.

“And many souls have traveled the span of millennia to reach it,” said the sister.

“It is everything and nothing. It is everywhere and nowhere.” As one their voices blended together. “An infinite multitude of words for the same space. It is has been known as Garden of the Hesperides, Valhalla, Walhall, Alfardaws, Assama, Falak al aflak, Elysium, Elysian fields, Arcadia, T’ien, Olympus, Zion, Utopia, Abode of the Blessed, Celestial Bliss, Paradise...”

Spike listened in growing horror, knowing what was coming and desperately wishing he could stop the flow of words from their mouths. If they didn’t say it, it couldn’t be real. If they stopped now it wasn’t true. He would still be all right if they just...stopped. But they didn’t stop. And the tone in their blended voices grew deeper, penetrating his body and mind until he didn’t know from which direction he was being assailed. His stomach clenched, his muscles trembled in tightening agony, and his jaw hurt from the pressure he was inflicting on it with clenched teeth. Still the words came.

“...and the one you are probably most familiar with, Spike, the one term that is known world wide in your dimension is...Heaven.”

They said it. They actually said it. And nothing would ever be the same for Spike again. Wide-eyed and slack jawed he stood for a long minute and just...stared. Not even at them, really, just stared. Finally making the cramped muscles of his legs work, he took a jerky step, followed by another and another until he was walking woodenly to the black steps that led up to the domed arch. The Oracles, who had been standing in front of him, moved out of his way. No one spoke; the siblings knew that enough had already been said. Spike would need time to digest what he’d heard.

Spike, not privy to their thoughts, just happened to share them. He knew he needed time to work through what had just been dropped on him with all the subtlety of a napalm blast. Just a little time, like maybe a decade or two. He sunk down on the steps and sat, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. His mind was a tempest-tossed sea of garbled thoughts and issues. For the first time since realizing the wonder twins could read his thoughts, he didn’t care in the least if they did. Maybe they’d help him figure out what he was thinking. Suddenly, Spike felt very, very alone. Hidden behind his hands, his eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out the additional sensory input. He needed to think.

_Heaven. They want me to go to soddin’ heaven. That’s a bloody first, lemme tell ya. Hell...yeah, I get that a lot. But ‘Go to heaven’? Definitely a new one on Spike. The Powers have granted a vampire access to heaven. Guess it’s clear they’re not playin’ with a full deck. Can’t touch a cross without gettin’ third degree burns? Holy water eats through you like acid? Can’t enter a church without a major case of the wigglies? Don’t worry, mate, we’re sendin’ you to heaven!! That’s rich, is what that is. Just. Bloody. Rich._

Spike’s thoughts started to border on hysterical but he was left alone to go there. The Oracles left him to it. They weren’t reading his mind. Knowing the only way that the vampire could survive in the other realm was on sheer determination and strength of will alone, it was vital that Spike find it within himself to foster those things. And it wouldn’t be right to eavesdrop while he did it, or didn’t do it as the case may be.

_You know what’s funny, mate? Two years ago you thought the worst thing that could ever happen to you was Dru leavin’ you for a fungus demon. Ain’t that a bleedin’ riot? Now look at you._

_Been a circuitry-enhanced lab rat, hunted almost to starvation by the government commandos, had to turn to your mortal enemy to save your sorry ass - and she did it out of soddin’ pity, and you know how you love to be pitied, especially by those wanker friends of hers, who are all more blindly pathetic then you are. Then...oh yeah, this is a hoot, this is the best part...you go to bed one night all set to find a way to shuck the Slayer of her mortal coil after havin’ your head cut open - thinkin’ you were getting’ the chip yanked only to find out it wasn’t - and you are ripped from a nightmarish dream where your mortal enemy somehow, through some sick, twisted, sadistic, masochistic, flip of fuckin’ fate, became the woman you loved._

_What the bloody hell was that all about, eh?_

_And it gets worse. When you woke up, you found out not only was the bitch of a dream true, but that you had loved the stupid bint for a long-assed time. Plus, one other tiny little detail, she loathes you. A lot. Barrel of hilarity, right? So you turn into a lovesick poofta who can’t even watch her fight without steppin’ in to lend a hand so she doesn’t get killed. Meanwhile, she’s treatin’ you like somethin’ she needs to wipe off the bottom of her shoes._

_And hey, let’s not leave out the skank-ho Hell-God from the bitch dimension who was all hot and bothered to turn the Slayer’s kid sis into a faint memory._

_So...you’ve been spurned by the Slayer, laughed at by her merry misfits, tortured nearly to death by the poorest excuse for a supreme bein’ you’ve ever seen, workin’ with people who hate you because of the person you love. And you thought Dru with a fungus demon was bad?_

_No sir, not even a blip on the ‘bad’ radar._

_Glory winnin’, that would have been bad. Nibblet dying, that would have been bad. Watchin’ Buffy slip into a catatonic state and not being able to do anything but watch, that was bad. Realizin’ the people that you thought you hated, Buffy’s friends, those merry misfits, had at some point and through the shared traumas become...important to you, that was bad._

_And what’s the worst? Because you know it has nothin’ to do with your ex, mate. What’s the very worst for you now? Buffy’s death. That was the worst, the very worst. That’s...as bad as it gets. Buffy’s dead. She’s dead. The woman you love is gone...Buffy..._

Spike’s thoughts started to slow as his spent emotions calmed. He felt wetness on his hands and cheeks and realized he’d been crying, probably for a while. Was he crying for himself or Buffy? Maybe a little of both.

Emotions were tricky things, they clogged up the pathways used by logic and thought, preventing anything coherent from getting through. Spike’s not-so-little rant had at least served to free up some space for his mind. It was time, now, to get past the pain, for really, that’s what the histrionics were about. Lashing out at himself for Buffy’s death. Flogging himself with the bad times in the hopes of forgetting why he loved her so much - for then maybe he wouldn’t mourn her so deeply.

The problem with that was when you focus so hard on the bad, the good gets forgotten. And he’d come too far, changed too much, to ever want to let go of the good, no matter how much it hurt.

Like Buffy coming to him with her mum and Dawn in tow, telling him he was the only one strong enough to protect them. That had felt so good to hear. Or sitting on her back porch for hours with her next to him, being trusted enough to talk to, to be told what was wrong with Joyce. To be let in, even a little, on her life. To be able to offer a little comfort. That had really meant something.

The kiss, Lord, that kiss. So tender and gentle. He’d gladly go through a dozen more torturing sessions with Glory for the brush of those lips just once more. Spike didn’t know what he enjoyed more, though, the kiss, or Buffy’s words after. And after that, he had been let back in to the group. Felt needed, if not always wanted.

The best was being re-invited into her home. And being entrusted with her sister’s safety. That had meant everything to him. Her friends got a warning, if they tried to harm Dawn, Buffy would kill them, but Spike got, “I’m counting on you to protect her.” That’s about as big as you can get.

And the good times didn’t just revolve around Buffy, either. Willow caring about his pain when Tara inadvertently caused some sun sizzle in the RV, that was nice. He’d appreciated that. Or even Xander, lighting his cigarette when his own hands were too damaged to do it. Not asking, just doing it, just helping. Dawn, sweet little Nibblet, just about everything she did was kind. Joyce too, before...well before she died.

It was when he thought about Joyce’s death that Spike started to realize something, as bad as it ever was for him, it had always been worse for Buffy. The burdens of being the Slayer, her mum getting sick, finding out Dawn was some mystical key thing and not really her sister, losing Riley, losing her mum, fighting so hard not to lose Dawn. And yeah, having to deal with him, he hadn’t made it easy on her, either.

Now she was dead.

But that meant something else. She was at peace. Her struggles were over, her pain gone. The stress he had watched building to a crescendo, the agony over not being strong enough to stop Glory, the grief over all of her losses. All of that was gone. It must be, because that’s what heaven was. And that’s where she was.

That’s why the Oracles had said he would need to convince her to leave there. She had found eternal happiness. Who would ever want to leave that, especially after the hell she went through in her short life. How could he go to her and ask her to come back and pick up all the old pain? Is that fair? Is that right? Yes, he wanted her alive, to just not be dead, but she had made a tremendous sacrifice out of love and in doing so had earned the right to be where she was now, to be happy.

The question became, how much did he really love her? Did he love Buffy enough to let her go, or was he still too selfish? Was he man or monster? Did his wants and desires matter more to him than hers?

It’s never easy to let a loved one go when you know you could make them cling to life, humans went through that kind of dilemma all the time, it wasn’t just a soul/no soul line in the sand, either. Fully soul-equipped people faced the same exact questions, and not all of them chose wisely.

And then, Spike’s decision was made for him. He couldn’t do it. He loved Buffy too much to knowingly put her through the kind of hell he’d seen her go through this past year. Spike inhaled deeply - on purpose, of course, as he didn’t need to breathe - and ran tired hands over his face and through his hair. With all of the dignity he could muster, he rose to his feet, straightened out his duster, and turned to the Oracles who were watching him. Waiting patiently.

“You’re goin’ to misunderstand my reasons,” he said in a low, calm voice. “And frankly, I’m okay with that. I know my reasons and it’s enough. I’m not goin’. I’m not doin’ that to her. I saw what she went through these past few months, few years if you want to put it rightly. She’s paid her dues. She’s fulfilled her obligation to you people. Leave her alone. Let me go home and mourn the lady in peace, let me take care of the only piece of her I’ve got left.”

The Oracles saw his sincerity, waltzed through his mind once again and read his pain, saw his sacrifice for what it was. It didn’t, however, change anything. They looked at each other, and Spike saw them nod in what appeared to be resignation. They walked up the stairway like the burden of eternal life was too much to bear.

Together, and without turning to look at him, they said, “Follow us.”

Spike thought they were letting him go, thought that it was over. They had conceded. He was wrong.

The brother and sister reached the top step and moved to stand on each side of the pool that was carved into the stone at their feet. They pointed down into the water’s reflection and looked at him. “Watch,” they said.

At first he didn’t see anything but the wavy reflections of the Oracles themselves, but then the top of the inky surface rippled slightly. He saw what looked to be Sunnydale, or what was once Sunnydale. It was now a dead and decaying city. Evil lurked in the shadows and darkness had claimed it as its own. Spike didn’t know what to say to such a bleak possibility.

“Not possibility,” the sister interrupted his thoughts, “fact. This is the town you live in exactly three years to the day from when Buffy died.”

“The pool before you is the called the Waters of Time and Space,” said the brother. “It allows us to track the progress of dimensional realities.”

“What you see there is what will happen if the Slayer does not return,” they told him.

The sister moved her hand and the image shifted, it was a wider view of most of the western United States. Large, angry, red splotches were everywhere, from the heartland states westward. Mixed between the red were circles of obsidian black. As he watched, more and more red splotches popped up, and more and larger circles of blackness.

“You are seeing time progress, five years, seven, ten, thirteen years,” said the sister, sorrow in her voice.

Spike saw the darkness expanding, watched as red popped up, flared briefly, and went black. Only very occasionally did it flare and go back to normal. “What’s this supposed to mean?”

“In simplest terms, it is the end of the world,” the brother said, matching the sadness in his sister’s tone.

“Wait a bloody second. Buffy died. A new Slayer is called, that’s how it works. Where’s the Chosen One through all this?”

Spike didn’t like what he was seeing, but he still wasn’t sure why this should be Buffy’s responsibility. She had already ‘been there, done that’ with the end of the world stuff - several times.

The Oracles, who looked to be drawing closer and closer to tears as the world died, raised watery eyes to look at him.

“There are two problems there,” said the sister.

“First of all,” the brother sighed, “Buffy was not your typical Slayer, as you have mentioned you know.”

“Secondly,” the sister kept turning pages and each one was worse than the last, the bad guys were gaining a lot of ground fast, “she has already died once. Another Slayer was called then.”

A quick tilt of the brother’s head and his eyes narrowed slightly. “And if I remember correctly, your girlfriend killed that one.”

Spike winced at the mention of Dru.

“And then the other was called. Faith, I believe, though definitely a misnomer. She was...less than satisfactory.” There was scorn and derision in the sister’s voice.

“Until she dies,” the brother smiled to his sister’s mind, neither one of them had liked Faith, “there will not be another Slayer called. And as she is currently in prison, that may be a while.”

“Balance will be upset,” the sister had continued to flip through time at the scenes reflecting there, “and in less than thirty years...”

The Oracles spoke as one and pointed to the scene below them, “this will be the result.”

Spike stared hard at what he saw; it disgusted him. Carnage of such a scale as to be indescribable, destruction of the world. Demons, true Hell demons roamed the earth, consuming anything and everything in its path. Light was gone, darkness reigned supreme. Life was extinguished. Nothing was left.

“Now you know...” said the sister.

“Why we need to get the Slayer back,” the brother finished.

“She is not just the Chosen One,” the sister spoke again.

As one, and with an additional mental push, they told Spike, “She is The Chosen One. The keeper of the balance. Our only hope. Your only hope.”

It was too much for Spike to take in. The viciousness he witnessed was unimaginable even for a creature that had fed on humans for over a hundred years. What he saw made his own evil ways seem pleasant by comparison. It numbed him. It hurt him. It forced a choice he didn’t want to make.

Spike no longer had any illusions about what Buffy had gone through when she sent Angel to hell after he had used Acathla. He had a complete understanding of what she felt when she threw herself off the tower and into the doorway between dimensions. He couldn’t let what he had seen come to pass. It was his turn to sacrifice.

The words that fell from Spike’s lips were somber and final. “I’ll do it.”

Once spoken, the Oracles wanted to make sure the words were not reneged once more.

“You say you will do it,” said the sister.

“But do you fully understand the price you pay if you fail?” the brother finished.

“And do you understand the price you pay if you succeed?” from the sister again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered in frustration. “I get it. Bloody prices to be had all around. I said I’d do it. When do start?”

The siblings looked at each other. They were left standing in the unique position of uncharted territory. What the vampire was getting ready to do had never been done before, not just by a vampire, but by anyone. No one had even thought of trying this before. It left them feeling very nervous, another first for them.

“The realm you are going to will not accept you, Spike.” The brother tried to go into greater detail.

“It will resist your presence and defend itself against you,” added the sister.

“Violently defend itself,” clarified the brother.

Spike tossed his hands up in frustration at the cadence of their speech and their endless repetition.

“First off,” he practically snarled, “do you think you could stop with the bleedin’ back and forth talk? Making my bleedin’ neck hurt! From now on, if you start a sentence, bloody well finish it! Secondly, I heard you the first few times just fine, I’m not mentally challenged, ya know. I go to this...other realm. Being a vampire with no soul, the place doesn’t much like me so it will try to destroy me. I convince Buffy to leave the peace and serenity she’s found and deserves, she decides to go back to the fighting and war and death and - poof! - she’s back in her body after she jumped off the tower. Fight over; hero types win. Buffy lives. Dawn lives. Balance restored. Now, will you answer my soddin’ question and tell me when I start?”

Practically bursting with hyperactivity, Spike started to pace around the marble and stone room. The Oracles watched pensively.

_“Do you want me to tell him, sister?”_

_“No, brother, I will do it.”_

“Spike,” she started slightly when he spun around in full vamp mode to stare at her. She hadn’t noticed the switch and it startled her slightly. Once under control, she continued. “If you survive the realm and make it to Buffy and convince her to leave, you...well, you will die, Spike. The Powers have only the power to grant you admittance; they have no control over the realm. And this has never been done before, with anyone. No one has ever left the realm after fully entering, some have dallied shortly on the outer fringes, only to return to their bodies, but none went fully inside. The realm will not let you go for getting Buffy out of there. And if you make it to her and you do not convince her, it will still destroy you for trying. It is your nature. To it you are an enemy.”

Spike blinked those golden eyes of his slowly twice, then pushed the demon back. He stared at the Oracles with something very close to hatred in his eyes. He did hate them, but not for sending him to Buffy. For needing Buffy to go back at all. He hated that it would all be on her shoulders again. And next time, he wouldn’t be there to help. Suddenly he was very glad Buffy had her sister and the Scoobies in her life.

“So, this is a one way ticket to paradise?” He said, cloaking himself in a casually sardonic attitude. He tilted his head and sent a pure sexually heated glance at the sister to fluster her. Judging by her expression it worked rather well. One corner of his mouth curved up slightly and he half sneered, half grinned at both of them. “Hmmm, now why am I suddenly so not surprised?”

For once, the Oracles had nothing to say.

“Right then,” said Spike, shrugging his shoulders a bit as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Let’s do this.”

With a wave of their hands, a doorway opened to Spike’s right with a flash of light and mist. Once the light dimmed and the mist cleared, Spike walked to the opening and peered in to the other side. What he saw made him frown. It was the single most barren wasteland he had ever seen. Craggy mountains in the distance blotted out the blood red sky, fissures in the dry, baked valley released steam and other noxious smelling chemicals into the air. There was no green, no life, nothing peaceful or tranquil at all.

Spike pulled his head back and shot a confused look at the Oracles. “I thought you said this was heaven, paradise.”

“It is, Spike,” the brother said with a look vaguely resembling sympathy, “but you are a vampire. You should know, there is no heaven, no paradise for vampires.”

That was a fact that was becoming abundantly clear to Spike. He took one more look into the hostile landscape in front of him and stepped in. The walls closed silently behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Three days. The sun had risen three times since the night Glory had tried to bring down the walls separating dimensions and release chaos on this world. For Dawn, time had slipped into one of two categories: Before...and After.

She had changed. Who wouldn’t? But of all the things lost, it was the loss of innocence that was most noticeable. At fourteen, fifteen in a little over a month, she had had her childhood ripped away from her in the cruelest and most bizarre circumstances. She no longer mentioned or even thought about the fact that it wasn’t a real childhood, that she wasn’t a real person. Buffy’s love for her and the sacrifice for that love had guaranteed that. Dawn was no longer a child, no longer the brat kid sister, the events she’s lived through had hurtled her into an all too quick maturity that defied her years. She was a young woman.

And she had set the Scoobies on their respective ears in the meantime.

Released from the hospital late in the afternoon on the first day After, the gang had taken her home. They stayed with her, no one even thinking to do anything less, and tried to comfort her as best they could. Oddly enough, though, it was she who did the most comforting.

Everyone was thunderstruck when her first demand had come.

“Giles,” she had said, after accidentally eavesdropping on them whispering about what would happen to her now. “Get on the phone. Call the Watcher’s Council. Have them pull whatever strings are necessary, but get them to appoint you as my legal guardian. Do it now.”

He had stared at her in stunned amazement, they all had, as she popped her head into the dining room where they were sitting, discussing her future. They had all thought she was upstairs resting at the time.

“D-Dawn,” Giles stuttered as he tried to get his mind to work, “I-I would, n-not that I’m not, they – ”

She had crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, waiting to hear what he was trying to say. He saw the determination in her eyes but there were limits to what the council could achieve, and he wasn’t sure they would be too anxious to assist him even if they could. Not with the Slayer’s death and his role as her Watcher officially over. Plus there were still some guilt issues.

“Dawn, I don’t think the council will be able to do much in that regard, though I would, of course, be proud to be your guardian,” he had said, which was all true - if only a slight evasion of the actual problem he was having with the idea, “but I’m not an American citizen. Even the Watcher’s council has limits...”

She had interrupted him before he got a chance to complete the sentence. “Well, maybe the Watcher’s council needs to work on that first, then, don’t they?”

She practically stormed in and thumped down at the table next to Xander, who had stared at her like she’d grown another head. “Listen, all of you. I’m very grateful that you are all so worried about me, but worry doesn’t solve anything. Action does. I learned that from Buffy.”

At the mention of her sister’s name the group had seen the raw aching wound that was still there over Dawn’s heart. She was still hurting, still grieving, but she’d covered that with determination and purpose. She was trying so hard to do what Buffy told her to do. Live.

Dawn had gone on to explain herself. “One thing’s for sure, I’m _not_ going to get sent to my father. And foster care? Don’t think so. The rest of you are too young, no offense Anya. No one would allow that. Leaves me with only one choice. Besides, Giles, you have been a father to me. Now it’ll be legal, no diff.”

She needed to convince them that this was the only way, and she knew that they weren’t convinced yet. She played a trump card. “We still live over the Hellmouth, guys, lets not forget that. Buffy’s...dead,” this time there was only a slight pause, it was getting easier - though no less painful - to say the actual words, “and I’m sure the Watcher’s council understands that a new Slayer won’t be popping up to take care of our little corner of joy in the world. We’re all they’ve got. One experienced Watcher, one ex-demon, two very powerful witches, Xander - who I believe makes up for his normalcy with a lot of dedication and experience, and me.”

The five ‘adults’ had been staring blankly at the table in front of them while she had been speaking but when she mentioned herself, Willow had looked up in surprised horror and met her steady gaze.

“Dawnie, there is no way Buffy would have wanted you anywhere near the things the Hellmouth can toss at us. You can’t expect us to let you take on the nasties in this town!”

Dawn, who had been prepared for that argument, smiled slightly. “Research only, Willow, trust me. I’m young, but I can help with the planning and bookwork, plus, you can start training me in magicks - protection stuff only, if you want. And I won’t always be young, either.”

Anya had looked at Dawn and cocked her head slightly, “Yes. You seem to be growing old right in front of my eyes. You’re even talking differently. What’s happening to you?” She had turned and grabbed Xander’s hand and asked him, “What’s happening to her?”

He had flushed slightly at the embarrassingly forthright question and told her he’d explain it later.

Giles had listened to everything, but had been weighted down by guilt and depression. He finally realized that he couldn’t keep the truth from Dawn any longer. She needed to know what she was asking, and whom she was asking it from.

He reached a tired hand up and removed his glasses before saying, “Dawn. I have to tell you something and it’s very difficult to admit. Last night, before we came for you, I told Buffy we would have to...kill you...if Glory got to start the ritual. I would have done it myself.”

Giles couldn’t look at her; he was too overwhelmed with shame and pain. For a long time no one spoke.

Dawn had been surprised, and admittedly a little hurt, but she knew what the ramifications were of opening the dimensional walls - they had all seen it. And she had a pretty good idea of what Buffy’s reaction had been to the news. She felt...sympathy for what Giles must have gone through.

After giving herself time to digest the information, she had finally shrugged one shoulder and told him, “And I tried to throw myself off the tower. She wouldn’t let me. No more than she would have let you, I expect. We were all trying to do what we needed to do. I understand. It’s okay, Giles.” She had tried to insert a lighter atmosphere to the room, feeling suddenly stifled by the heavy emotions swirling around. “Just...don’t do it again, okay?”

She had smiled at him, and he felt the huge weight of his burden of shame lift off his shoulders. “Right then,” he had said, stunned once again at her maturity and grace. “I can assure you I won’t.” He had smiled and stood up from the table. “I guess I’ll go put in that call now. I can’t wait to hear Quentin’s reaction.”

Dawn had left soon after, telling everyone she was going up to study for the make-up Geography test that she was going to take the next day. Fortunately, the school had decided not to expel her after Giles had taken it upon himself earlier to contact them about Buffy’s death and the reason behind Dawn’s absence (heavily edited reason, anyway). The principal had been sympathetic to the loss of her sister so soon after the loss of her mother and had agreed, if Dawn passed the test, to allow her to stay.

Once she had gone upstairs, Xander had turned to the rest of his friends and said, “Is it just me, or does the Dawnster suddenly remind you of anyone?”

They had all nodded, Willow being the one to say, “She’s like a mini Buffy.”

On the second day After, their thoughts were confirmed.

Dawn had come in to the magic shop and laid her book bag on the table. She told everyone that she was pretty sure she had passed her test, and that school had been awkward because none of her friends knew how to treat her anymore. The gang had sympathized and congratulated her on the academic achievement. When she had come back from the training room after grabbing something to drink from the fridge (no one had seen her run a trembling hand down the punching bag, or wipe the tears from her eyes that suddenly sprung up when she thought about Buffy) she had sat down at the table next to Willow and Tara and dropped her next major bombshell.

“Guys, I want you to do a spell to find out where Spike was taken. We’re going to get him back.”

That hadn’t gone over too well. The gang was in no way convinced they even wanted him back. No one thought he was still alive either, no one except Dawn, anyway. She couldn’t explain it to them. It was just something she felt. She knew he wasn’t dead...yet. And she was determined to get him back. She needed him, and she knew the group did too. He promised to protect her and she would make sure that promise was both kept and extended to the rest of the gang, whether he liked it or not.

Twisting the witches around to her way of thinking in much the same way she had done to Giles the day before, they had finally agreed to try. And it had worked…kind of anyway. They had tracked him to another dimension using a spell to light up his path in the nether realm. But they had lost it, and had to tell Dawn that it had just stopped, cut off abruptly, and they didn’t know why.

Dawn had been afraid she’d been wrong, that maybe he was, in fact, dead, and she almost lost the tenuous grasp she had on her emotions. Willow was quick to point out that she didn’t believe that to be the case. If he had died, or been killed, she would have sensed it. No. It was something different. She and Tara both believed he was still alive, just somewhere that they couldn’t track him.

When Dawn had dictated that they keep trying, no one even questioned how effortlessly she seemed to take command of the group’s actions. And they didn’t question how reassuring it was, having Dawn - despite her age - acting so much like her big sister.

The third day, the current day, was set aside for one thing and one thing only. It was the day Buffy was buried. Dawn had decided to allow herself this one day to give in to all of the anguish she was feeling. She allowed herself to mourn. They all did. Buffy was on everyone’s mind. Nothing else was given any room.

It was a daytime ceremony held under a canopy to allow for the one guest that they all knew would come. Willow had been the one to go and tell him in person just the night before. Angel was there. As was Wesley and Cordelia.

No one but the minister spoke, there just weren’t words enough to express their grief. The gang supported Dawn, who sobbed painfully through the entire service, and there were few dry eyes in the small crowd.

Angel’s were one. He hadn’t shed a tear since Willow had told him. He hadn’t said much, either. A quick, “let’s go,” back in LA and the four of them headed to Sunnydale. Grief blanketed him, it was palpable, practically visible, but he said nothing. His dark, brooding features said it all.

Giles had filled him in on what had happened when they got to Buffy’s house late last night. He had walked out soon after, haunting the streets of his old stomping ground like Death himself and purged his rage and hatred on anything evil that crossed his path. On his own, he had sent several of the town’s worst demonic villains straight to hell. A place he was very familiar with both in a literal sense and figuratively, as his soul had been chained there since he had seen Willow.

As with all funerals, guests slowly dispersed as soon as the service was over. Soon the gang was pulling Dawn away from her sister’s gravesite. They had planned on going back to the house after it was over. As with her mom, Buffy wouldn’t have wanted a wake or anything, so they didn’t have the added strain of mourners there. They were going to go and just be with each other, gaining comfort from each other as they had for the past three days.

Dawn allowed herself to be guided away, but a glance back over her shoulder at the lone figure standing so desolate and alone had her breaking out of Willow’s arms and hurrying back to his side. She didn’t think he noticed her, so she reached out tentatively and touched his arm. The slight jump she felt underneath her hand told her she’d been right.

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

He finally tore his gaze away from the lowering coffin and glanced at her grief stricken and tear-stained face. “I know. So am I.”

“She would be glad that you’re here.”

He just nodded, unable to force words past the lump in his throat.

They stood side by side for a while, both just staring down at the remains of the person they both loved so much. It looked so barren without a headstone, but that wouldn’t be finished for a few more days. It was a pretty spot, though, a Weeping Willow shaded it and it was just a few feet from her mother’s grave.

“I picked out the headstone,” Dawn told him, not sure why it would matter but needing to say something. “It’s pretty, I think. She would like it. I told the man just to put her name on it, and the dates...you know. I was going to leave it at that, thought maybe simple would be best, but it seemed too little for her, for the big things she did. I had him add ‘Beloved Sister’ and ‘Devoted friend’ and then, at the bottom, I asked the man to write, ‘She saved the world a lot’. He didn’t understand, kinda gave me a weird look but I had to put it. People didn’t know - how special she was. How much she gave,” Dawn was crying again, the tears wouldn’t stop. “They couldn’t see it when she was here and now...now that she’s not, everyone can see it. Even if they don’t understand, they’ll see it and know.”

Angel didn’t turn, didn’t say anything for a long time. They stood there, still side by side with Dawn’s hand on his arm as the sun faded out of the sky. Once the sun had set, Angel knew it was time to go. He had done what he needed to do. He had said his goodbyes. Tomorrow would come. Life would go on. It would be a different life, a life knowing she was no longer there, in the background, and he didn’t know yet how it would feel.

He looked down at Dawn’s wet eyes. Angel would make sure she got home safely.

“What you had them write,” he finally said, “on the headstone...it was good. Buffy would be proud of you.”

Dawn smiled slightly at the praise. The large, brooding vampire and the small, sad girl walked home, taking comfort from one another as best they could.

 

********************

 

“Well,” said the sarcastic voice heavy-laden with a north London accent, “this is one fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, mate.”

No sooner had the door leading into the realm been sealed up behind him than Spike realized just what the Oracles meant by it defending itself against him. As soon as he entered, huge, angry-looking clouds, sickly yellow in color, gathered large on the horizon, rolling and frothing in his direction. Lightning flashed down brightly a few feet from where he stood and the thunder cracked viciously, making him jump. He needed to move if he was going to live any longer than five minutes.

And the atmosphere was really the least of his problems. It was the feeling, the bugs-crawling-under-your-skin feeling that had him totally freaked. As soon as he stepped in, it felt like the eyes of God himself were boring into him from all directions. It wasn’t painful exactly, but it didn’t give him warm fuzzies, either. Somehow he knew, despite the absence of anything but the clouds and towering mountains in the distance, that he was being watched and weighed and found severely lacking. What a bloody surprise.

The demon in him wasn’t happy, there was nothing he could do to prevent it from emerging full force. His game face was on and he scanned the landscape with enhanced eyesight, looking for a way to go.

“All right, luv,” he muttered to himself quickly, “where in the bloody hell...heaven are you?”

He had to cover his ears to protect himself from the next crack of thunder. It was getting closer and hurt his hypersensitive hearing.

Something in him, some small piece of his cold, dead heart whispered to him. It was urging him to move, and move fast, but it was also telling him _which_ way to move. Not bothering to question the feeling, Spike took off to the left, heading towards the mountains in the distance and directly toward the most hostile looking area in the place. Broken ground and nasty fissures in the earth lay in his path and he saw them stretching out before him as he drew closer.

“Of course,” he muttered, talking to himself just to hear himself speak, “it would be the ugliest route. This is just soddin’ wonderful.”

Staying just ahead of the approaching storm (calling it the stalking storm wouldn’t be out of line, considering he had seen it change direction as he did and follow him as he ran) he came to an abrupt halt just before leaping over the first jagged, open split in the ground. Steam issued forth out of the opening at his feet. The vapor burned his skin with vile intent and he had to take a step back. There was no way he would be able to jump it without getting massively singed.

“Okay, Spike, what’s the next brilliant plan?”

Through a break in the steam he thought he could see a way around the chasm and he moved off to his right.

Three steps later the situation he was in got quite a bit worse. He was edging his way around one fissure and trying to keep from falling into another when he felt it. His stomach seized up in fear and he froze. Perched precariously between two large cracks in the ground, trying to ignore the burning of the vapor against his skin, he thought at first he had imagined it.

But no, there it was again. Spike girded himself and leapt to a wider stretch of hard-packed dirt, bellowing in pain and rage as the move forced him to go through the acidic steam. It wasn’t like he had a choice - underneath his feet the earth had moved.

Spike was standing in an area of Swiss-cheesed terrain, with jagged tears in the surface hungering to suck him in and break every bone in his undead body, caustic vapors ready to disintegrate his flesh on contact, a psychopathic storm hunting him down like a dog, and now, to top it all off, the ground was rolling and pitching under him.

It was an earthquake.

Rolling his eyes at the latest horror, Spike tried to keep his balance as the ground bucked and fell under him. It didn’t work. He was thrown with all of nature’s fury to the unforgiving dirt, almost getting tossed into the opening he had just leapt over. Spike shuffled quickly backwards on his hands and knees and tried to keep from falling into another one right behind him. He looked up at the storm, down at the crack in front of him and shook his head. This _so_ wasn’t his day.

“Bloody hell.”


	6. Chapter 6

Spike clutched at the shaking earth beneath him and trembled from the force of the storm above.

_Look at the bright side, mate. Could be worse, could be sunshine beamin' down on you in a nice, fatal way._

The thought did nothing to ease his mind. In fact, he peered anxiously up at the sky, just to make sure his thoughts hadn't been read as an invitation to up the stakes of the deadly game he was playing with the realm. Spike couldn't bring himself to even think about it as heaven.

Fortunately, the ground beneath him stopped quaking and he was able to finally pull himself to his feet, crouching a bit to stay out of the way of the lightning bolts that were still blazing their righteous fury down on him. He didn't think he had much time before something equally hideous was thrown up in his path.

The skin on his hands, neck, and face burned hotly from the exposure to the steam that was even now reaching out tendrils of scalding menace toward his exposed flesh. If his hands were any indication - he could see they were raw, chapped, and seeping - it was probably a good thing that he couldn't see his face.

Didn't matter though, something told him it would get worse before it got better, a lot worse.

The only way he could see to get out of the harsh terrain he was stuck in was to go over the fissures. It would take too much time and was too risky to try to go around. If the earth started again with the shaking, he might not be so lucky next time and he might fall in. Plus, a moving target was a difficult target to hit, and those lightning bolts were getting closer and closer. He was out of options.

With that bleak thought still knocking around in his noggin, Spike started to move. Really move. He headed in a mostly straight line, leaping fissures and being blistered by their venomous vapor as he went. When a crack was too wide to jump safely he veered off slightly, taking the shortest, yet safest possible route to the other side.

With malicious intent, the storm grew in ferocity, whipping up gales of strong wind and hurling hailstones the size of golf balls down on him and the surrounding area. The hailstones pummeled his body like icy bullets and the wind pushed against him, trying to slow him down. He couldn't let it.

Over the banshee wail of air and the cracks of thunder and the drum roll of hailstones hitting the earth, Spike thought he heard an inhuman howl. A sharp, keening cry of agony rose above the din of heaven's wrath. It took him a few minutes to realize the sound was coming from him.

Borne from the depths of his soulless body, he was screaming out against the furies of fate and circumstance. Bellowing out his pain and his hatred of the job he was doing and the reason he was doing it. As he leapt and swerved and flew and dodged, the sound grew to a mindless snarl. Feral and intense, hot and heavy, it hung in the air around him.

Never ending torment was in that sound, as was the deeply passionate desire for things he could never have. The woman he could never have. Buffy was in that cry.

Billowing out behind him like ink black wings, his leather duster flapped wildly against the monstrous tempest. With his face set in a ghastly grimace, teeth bared and jaws clenched against the pain, he went airborne again. Flying over another fissure like an avenging angel of misery, he landed hard and rolled to absorb the shock to his body.

Going with the momentum, he was back on his feet and running again a mere blink of time after he landed.

Suddenly, silence slammed down on the damaged landscape. At first Spike didn't notice the difference; he was too busy focusing on trying to cut off the sound coming from his own throat. When he finally caught on that he wasn't being pummeled by hailstones or threatened by lightning he jogged to a stop and looked around. The storm was gone. Not receding, not lessening, just gone - as if it never was. A clear, blood red sky was all he could see. Not one single cloud. Behind him, the earth was an unblemished wasteland of hot desert-like compacted sand. The fissures and steam were gone as well.

For some reason, he didn't feel comforted.

"Now, why do I think this may just fall under the category of not boding well for Spike?"

He was under no illusion that he had succeeded in winning against this realm, the prickly 'God's got his eye on you' feeling was still there. And it was stronger than before, driving him quietly and effectively toward the edge of insanity.

Longing to strip the skin from his own body for relief, he knew that whatever was on its way was going to be bad. He didn't bother with arrogance. This was far from over.

Spike figured the brief respite would be better spent on the move.

As he ran, he pictured Buffy in his mind. It comforted him, soothed the prickly feelings under his skin slightly. The fire in her eyes when she got her temper up, the way she'd tilt her head in aggravation with her hands fisted at her hips when he annoyed her. The gentleness in her caress when she brushed her hand over Niblet's hair, the sweetness in her smile when she saw Willow and Tara together or Xander and Anya. It was a sweetness that was tinged with envy, though she'd stake him if she knew he had seen that. And the way she fought. Oh, the way she moved when she fought. That was poetry in motion. Pure unadulterated poetry.

Fluidity and grace hid the steel beneath the petite frame but nothing could hide it from Spike. He had seen it, had been on the receiving end of it more times than he'd like to remember, and it was one of the things he admired most about her. Because the steel didn't make her hard and the grace didn't make her soft. It was balance and it was beautiful. It was Buffy.

Spike didn't notice, but his game face had melted away for the first time since entering the realm as he ran, as he thought about the Slayer, as he smiled at his thoughts.

He was actually surprised when he got to the base of the mountain. It had looked much farther away while he was approaching but suddenly it was looming above him. Except there was one tiny problem. It wasn't a mountain, at least not in the classic sense of the word. It was a tremendous pile of shale - loose rock - sharp shards of ton upon ton of the stuff.

His mouth opened slightly and he cursed under his breath. This was going to be a bitch to climb and he knew it. Looking up to the top of the pile, he figured it was a good thousand feet high. Not large by mountain standards, little more than a hill, really, but there would be no firm ground under his feet. And even vampires had limits to their endurance. He cursed again. Someone certainly wasn't making this little trek any easier, that's for sure.

Sighing deeply for emotions sake he muttered, "It's not likely to be gettin' any smaller with you standin' at the bottom of it, you sod. Go on, up and over."

Because of the steep slope, he had to use his hands and his feet to scramble up the surface. After less than a hundred feet, his hands - already damaged earlier - were cut and bleeding badly. His grip grew slippery and less secure. The muscles in his legs, fighting doubly hard against the soft surface, started to complain at the workout they were getting but he didn't stop. He pushed on.

Every once and a while he would slide backwards a little, and he snarled each time in annoyance. _Like trying to climb out of bloody quicksand._

He kept the picture of Buffy in his head. It wouldn't let him stop. He had to get to her. She had to go back. He knew he wasn't going to be leaving this realm, and if Buffy didn't go back, there would be no one to protect Dawn. No way was he going to let that happen, even if he had to kick that firm bottom of hers out of there himself.

The nearly vertical, torturous climb stretched on.

Almost three quarters of the way to the top, Spike had to rest. His legs were no longer complaining, they were screaming at him. And his poor hands were sliced to ribbons. Sitting gingerly on one of the rare level spots, he checked out the damage to his digits. He used the corner of his shirt to gently pat them dry. He didn't want to risk giving in to his nature in this realm. Licking the blood off probably wouldn't be the brightest of ideas.

He was relieved to see the damage wasn't as bad as he thought. Mostly superficial with only a few deep gouges, it was the pain that was the worst of it. They'd heal. Well, they would if he had time for them to heal, anyway.

Leaning back against the shale, staring out into the great expanse of tortured earth, he wondered what the realm would throw up at him next. He shouldn't have.

Spike didn't notice it at first but it didn't really matter. It noticed him.

Staring off to the right, Spike scratched at his prickly skin unconsciously. Whatever was affecting him was growing stronger, but he just didn't have the energy to continue on quite yet. He leaned over and picked up a piece of shale and sent it skipping down the side of the mountain. When he bent to pick up another, he noticed the piece he was reaching for was vibrating slightly against the others. He frowned, not quite getting why it would be doing that. It wasn't another earthquake, Spike didn't feel any vibrations coming from below, and on the pile he was sitting on, he would.

He spun around and looked up at the top of the peak...and breathed a real sigh of relief. Not a rockslide. That would be tops on his list of things not to go through today. So, no earthquake, no rockslide...what then?

He scanned the horizon from right to left. When he focused his re-emerged game-faced eyesight across the mountain range of stones off to his left he almost fell off his perch in shock.

"Oh, BLOODY HELL!"

Unlike the other things he'd faced since entering this realm, there was nothing even remotely natural about what he saw. Suddenly, whether or not he had the energy to continue mattered not in the least. Spike leapt to his feet and started dragging himself frantically up the last distance to the top.

Quickly gaining on his position was a shimmering wall of some kind of energy that stretched from the ground to the sky, and it was, well, bulldozing might be the best way to describe it, its way through each and every pile of stone on his left and heading his way. As it came in contact with the large piles, they virtually exploded, sending razor-sharp, deadly stone projectiles in every direction.

Spike reached the peak and gathered his duster around him. If anything could provide some marginal protection against what he was going to do next, it would be the leather.

Too afraid of what was coming to think about the plan he had, he jumped off of the top of the pile of shale and fell. The pitched grade on this side was less severe than the other, so he hit hard about ten feet from the top. Sliding in a free fall, the loose stone beneath him gathered momentum as he slid and he hurtled to the bottom of the hill.

The last thing he remembered was thinking he just might make it before he was hit with the pyroclastic blast from the displaced air. Unlike the hailstones, the flying shale missile's that were caught up in the blast of pressure didn't just pummel him, they sliced into him, embedding themselves into his skin in several places.

Spike howled briefly in pain and then, blessedly, felt nothing. Everything went black. He lost consciousness just as the bulldozer of shimmering energy blasted apart the hill he was on.

 

********************

 

"Got anything yet, Willow?" Dawn asked, as she pushed open the door to the Magic Box and moved to toss her book bag on the table.

For a full week it was the same question every time.

For a full week she got the same answer from the redheaded witch. "Not yet, Dawnie, but we're still working on it."

Dawn's quest to find and return Spike had become a haunting obsession, invading her dreams and lurking in the back of her mind - whispering to her - all day. Not that she had slipped on her schoolwork. If anything, it had improved. As had her attendance, Giles had seen to that.

The Watcher's council had worked their own brand of Gestapo-esque magic on the US government and plowed through a surprisingly large amount of red tape like a hot knife through butter to acquire citizenship for Giles. They had gotten the news just two days ago.

Yesterday the gang had celebrated the official custodial rights of one Rupert Giles over one Dawn Summers. The gang had pitched in to get a rather ostentatious bundle of balloons for the Watcher, several of which proclaimed to God and everyone, "It's a Girl!"

Even Giles managed to find the amusement in that.

"Any homework today, Dawn?" Giles asked as he came out from the stockroom with a box of inventory in his hands.

"Of course," Dawn rolled her eyes at Tara. Giles was great, but he was a stickler for all things studious. And as much as she groused, she didn't really mind. He loved her and that was his rather staunchly British way of showing it. But she wouldn't be a teenager if she didn't complain and generally work to make his life as frantic as possible. She may have found a new maturity and purpose, but some things NEVER change.

"My English teacher, who I am convinced is a escaped Nazi war criminal - we should really investigate her - decided we weren't fully appreciating 'To Kill A Mockingbird', so we have to write a 500 word essay that summarizes its main theme." Dawn turned dramatically tragic, pleading eyes to Willow, who grinned at the teen's ploy. "Willow, tell me you've read the book and will help me!"

Giles just shook his head at the girl, happy to see that she was showing signs of bouncing back from the tragedy ten days ago. Now, if he could just get her mind off Spike.

Giles hadn't discussed his theory with anyone, but he was afraid that Dawn was transferring the loss of her sister onto the missing vampire, and if she didn't let it go - or Spike wasn't returned - it would destroy her.

"Hey, guys," Tara's voice pulled Giles' thoughts away from his ward. "I think I may have found another one."

At Dawn's insistence, the witches had been pouring through the extremely extensive collection of Giles' spell books, trying out each and every locater spell they found in case it got them further than they had before. So far, they always ended up at the same spot, the spot that Spike's energy trail, or aura trail, whatever you want to call it, just cut off.

Now they had one more to try. As soon as Dawn heard Tara, she dropped the teen angst routine like a bad habit and put on her 'all work, no play' face. As quick as turning on a light, the aggrieved schoolgirl was gone and in her place, a determined young woman.

"Right. Tara, you get the supplies. I'll help Willow set up in the back room. When that's done, I'll hang out here and start on my paper. Let me know what you find out."

Willow, still not used to seeing the transformation from carefree teen to intense leader in Dawn - in Buffy, sure, but in Dawn? - reached out and touched Dawn's hand with a supportive squeeze. "We will. You'll be the first to know...well, okay, small fib. We'll be the first to know, but you will definitely be second."

Dawn grinned and led the way into the back room to set up the circle her friends would need.

 

********************

 

"Ow, Christ that hurts!"

Spike tried to move but his body protested violently. He opened his eyes and stared at the sky, it had changed. No longer the angry blood red color, it was more of a dark maroon. Of course, it didn't really matter what color it was, it's not like Spike knew if that was an indication night was falling - or even if there was a night in this realm. He couldn't even tell how long he'd been out.

"Well, surprise, surprise," he muttered to himself. "You're still alive, mate. A little less proper than you were before, but you know what they say about beggars. They taste funny and get stuck in your teeth." He tried to laugh at his own sick humor but was seized by a coughing fit. It felt like he swallowed the hill of shale instead of just being ripped apart by it and he was pretty sure several of his ribs were broken.

Very gently, so he didn't hurt something that wouldn't heal so fast, he turned his head to check out the fallout of his plunge and the blast. There was nothing. No scattered stones, no remnants of hills, just barren, dessert-like hard packed earth. Same as the disappearing storm and fissures.

Rolling over slowly, he winced when he felt the bite of several slashes in his side and down his right leg. Cautiously feeling his way down, he gasped as his fingers found the first of what was to be many pieces of shale firmly imbedded in his skin. He plucked them out one by one, biting back the cry of pain that each removal caused. When he was finished, there were about twelve bloody pieces scattered around his body. Solid proof that whatever was playing mountain lion and mouse with him was real. And Spike didn't feel like playing anymore.

He managed to get to his knees and sheer force of will had him tottering on his feet soon after. Bloody, bruised, cut, and exhausted, he staggered on. That soft brush of feeling he had been counting on to lead him to Buffy was still there, and in the growing darkness he headed off to follow his instincts.

Hell, he was too damn stubborn to do anything else.

Spike didn't know how long he stumbled through the darkness. He didn't know how far he had come. What he did know was there was something up ahead of him, he didn't know what exactly, but he was desperately hoping it wasn't going to be another 'bash the Spike' thing.

As he got within feet of it, he could see it was square and hanging a few feet off the ground. No, that's not quite right. It was a sign. It had posts sticking into the hard surface of earth. Shuffling forward, curiosity getting the better of him, he tried to see what it said.

It was out of place. Since entering the realm he'd seen absolutely no evidence of any inhabitants, but signs weren't put up where no one would see it. That didn't make sense.

When he finally got close enough to make out the writing Spike just stared in dazed amazement. "You have got to be kiddin' me."

_No way. No bloody way._

He called out in anger to whatever was responsible for the ever-present feeling of eyes on him. "What's this all about, eh? This some kind of soddin' joke?! Oh yeah, mate, you're real funny, ya know?"

And suddenly, everything he had been through since he got dragged down into this twisted version of Alice's rabbit hole in the sharp, talon-tipped grasp of the Dialetylth DID seem funny. Very funny. Riotously funny. Spike started laughing and he honestly had no idea if he could stop. He sunk to his knees and gripped his sides, practically howling in amusement and giving in to what was fast becoming hysteria.

And every time he started to calm down, he peeked at the sign and it started all over again.

_So, Spike, here you are. Workin' on savin' the world...again. What's this, the second? Nope - the third time. That's got to be some bleedin' record for a soulless vampire, ya know? Maybe you should tell the little chippy to let Guinness know when all's said and done. Wonder how 'William the Bloody' would look in that damn book. Or maybe just 'Spike' - well, we'll just let the girl decide for herself. Then again, maybe not. Wouldn't want it to read 'William the Bloody pain in the ass' now, would we? Nope, that wouldn't do at all._

His thoughts did nothing to settle him down. It was all just so tragically amusing. Except for this time, this time to save the world he had to take away something precious and well deserved from the woman he loved more than he loved his own undead life. He had to send her back to the fray. But why?

Why was he here? Why should he force Buffy to give up her peace? Spike had seen what would happen without the Chosen One, but so what? He'd die? Well, it wasn't like he was going to be getting out of heaven in one undead piece, the Oracles had been bloody well clear on that. And if he wasn't going to be there anyway, what did he care if the world and all of its inhabitants - who he couldn't even feed off of anymore, by the way - went straight to the fiery gates of Hell?

Well, there was Dawn. She was one reason. And, if Spike was really honest to himself, there were also the merry misfits. They were another reason. _But they only count as one! I'm not givin' 'em each a reason of their own!_

Strangly, though, those reasons hadn't been why he chose to do this unthinkable thing. He hadn't really been thinking of Dawn, or of the Slayerettes, when he had seen the pit of carnage that the world would become.

With a flash of insight he finally put his finger on it. And suddenly there was nothing amusing about any of this any more. Spike knew why he was here. He remembered why he had said he'd follow through with this abomination.

Because it was the right thing to do.

He got up off his knees and stared at the sign, head tilted slightly and one eyebrow lifted. No. There was no funny to be had. With a cold purpose, he stepped up to the sign and kicked at the posts to loosen them from the ground, then bent down and pulled.

It didn't take much. When he had the sign in his hands, he raised it over his head and yelled at the eyes under his skin. "I'm doin' what I bloody well have to do! I'm doin' the right thing for the right bloody reasons! This isn't what I want, ya know? I don't want to take her from here any more than you want to let her go! There's no other way! I have no choice! And neither do you! You know why? Because if you don't let her go, don't let me get to her and let her make her choice, then this is the only realm every soul left on that miserable rock will have to find any peace at all. And they will all die gettin' here!"

With a frustrated grunt of effort, Spike threw the sign away from him, then headed on in the direction he now knew Buffy to be.

The sign landed with a slap and a thud several feet away from the retreating back of the vampire. Despite the unbroken darkness, the letters were lit with a ghostly luminescence for brief seconds before fading out. Just long enough for the casual observer to see what was written there, what had set Spike off on his fit of hysterics and self-discovery.

'Welcome to Sunnydale'


	7. Chapter 7

The damn thing was burning a hole in his pocket, just like it had been for the past twenty-six days. Sure, he could take it out - leave it at home or stuff it in a drawer - but that would be admitting to everyone something he wasn’t ready to admit to himself. That he had been wrong in what he said to her that night.

But he couldn’t make himself give it to her, either. That was the problem. That’s what was causing the friction between them. Anya just didn’t understand, and nothing he said seemed to make it any better. Maybe that was because he didn’t understand it himself.

Xander sighed in frustration and tried to push away his thoughts. What was the point? It was obviously doing no good thinking them. It wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was no closer to a solution, to any clue about what to do.

It wasn’t about the love. He loved Anya. There was never a question of that. And he still wanted her to share his life with him. But he told her that night, almost a month ago now - before the world came crashing down on top of all of them - that he wanted her to share his long, silly life because he believed that they were all going to get through the impending apocalypse. Not all of them had. He’d been wrong.

Sometimes at night, when Anya was curled up next to him sleeping the sleep of the ‘relieved the world didn’t end’ ex-vengeance demon, Xander would lie awake and stare at the ceiling for hours. Only in the cloaking darkness could he admit how he really felt.

He was angry, and it shamed him not because of the anger itself, but for whom he was angry at. Buffy. It made no logical sense, but he couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t get past it. Couldn’t get over it.

That night, earlier that night, back when they were all holed up in that abandoned gas station, Buffy swore that she wasn’t going to lose anyone, she was going to make sure they all got through it. Well, in Xander’s mind, she’d fallen a bit short of that lofty goal. And he didn’t know if he could ever forgive her.

For five years he had fought all the things to fight in a town unique with its own Hellmouth, and he’d been able to do it without going bonkers or self-destructing for one reason and one reason alone. Xander had absolute faith in the belief that the Buffster was unbeatable, unstoppable…inviolable.

She was the glue that held them all together, protected them even as they assisted her in any way they could. But that night everything was stripped away from him. And he’d been on very shaky emotional ground ever since.

It wasn’t about losing a dear friend, a loved one. That loss was blindingly painful but it lessened a fraction each day. That’s a wound that heals. It takes a lot of time and patience but it does heal. What was really messing him up was the other.

It was having his beliefs, beliefs that got him through more horrors than he could even remember, ripped away without so much as a by your leave. Buffy’s death tore that all away, opening a hole where confidence once resided. That’s what he couldn’t bring himself to forgive.

He’d believed that he was going to live a long, silly life? He should have prefaced that with, “As long as the Slayer’s around to save all of our scaredy-cat butts.”

There just wasn’t any silliness left in him anymore.

That sounded ridiculous, even to him, which is why he’d never explained it to Anya that way, but there it was. When Buffy died, it had been the death of an era of confidence. Sure, there was the almost weekly terror of one kind or another, but always the confidence that the big uglies would lose and the Slayer would win.

Admitting that did little to make Xander feel good about himself.

So, there it sat, in his pocket, the engagement ring he had bought for Anya what seemed like a lifetime ago. Still burning that hole, still taunting him with the memory of what should have been.

He might be able to get past it if he had someone to talk to about what was going on in his head, but who? Anya wouldn’t understand. Giles was too busy with the shop and his new, ‘Father Knows Best, British version’ duties. Willow and Tara were on a Dawn induced mission to find Spike (and hey, that was another thing that he really didn’t want to deal with…Spike’s disappearance and Dawn’s unhealthy obsession with it), and he couldn’t talk to Dawn.

Well, alright, he could, but he didn’t think, “Hey, I’m pissed that your big sister threw herself off a tower to save the world from falling into chaos after that demon guy did a slice and dice on your stomach, taking away my snuggly warm comfort blanket of a delusion that life is winnable,” was exactly what she needed to hear. Ever.

Especially since she was doing so much better than him in the healing and getting on with life like Buffy wanted them to departments.

Maybe it was time for him to…

“XANDER!”

Dawn’s impatient voice broke through his reverie and finally snapped him out of his deep-thought induced daze.

“Huh? You say something, Dawnie?”

“You could say that,” she was staring at him with a frown on her face and her arms crossed in irritation. “I’ve been calling your name for like five minutes. Are you gonna come eat or what? Giles made chicken Parmesan and it’s coagulating into unpleasant looking blobs even as I speak.”

The teen was standing next to his seat on the couch in her living room. In Dawn’s and Giles’ living room. It was still weird to think about Giles living in Buffy’s house, but it wasn’t Buffy’s house anymore. It was Dawn’s.

“As much as I wish you hadn’t described what we are all about to ingest in such colorful detail, Dawnster, yes, I’m coming.”

Giles had put his place up for sale not long after the funeral. It made sense. The house was paid for out of the money from the life insurance policy Joyce had, and her will had left it to Buffy, reverting to Dawn in the event of Buffy’s death. With Giles being appointed Dawn’s legal guardian, he technically had control of the household, but the house was in her name now. And Giles thought it better to live there, what with it being big enough for both of them and being closer to the shop than his place.

When Xander didn’t move despite his assurance that he was on his way, Dawn rolled her eyes and called out to him again. “Hel-lo! Earth to lump-on-the-couch man, lets go!”

Dinner would give him a chance to not think about what was in the box that was pressing against his leg, so Xander got up to head in to dinner. Trying to appear as if nothing was bothering him, he paused just long enough to ruffle Dawn’s hair in a brotherly fashion and then led the way to the dining room.

He didn’t see the concerned look on Dawn’s face, or the way she worried her bottom lip with her teeth and frowned as she watched him walk away. He had no idea that she’d even noticed just how unhappy he was lately, and how easily he seemed to get upset. She had. It was her job to notice those kinds of things now. They had to take care of each other. She made a mental note to speak to Willow about it after dinner.

Okay, after the spell Willow and Tara were working after dinner.

With a heart that was a touch heavier at the sight of Xander’s pain, Dawn followed him into the dining room and got ready to eat.

 

********************

 

The darkness was absolute. Even for a vampire with hypersensitive vision, it was difficult to find his way without tripping over something or, even more embarrassing, running into something.

But at least there were things to trip over and run into. That was better than that barren wasteland. And Spike realized quickly, once he started to see dark shapes vaguely resembling buildings materialize one by one from the pitch blackness as he drew within feet of them, the sign he had yanked was an actual indication of what he was coming across now. The layout was the same, anyway. It was Sunnydale.

“Good show, mate. You’ve come to a realm that has inflicted a serious kickin’ of your ass only to find its version of a town that has witnessed several serious kickin’s of your ass.”

On the bright side though - and right now it was the only brightness to be had anywhere - he knew the layout of good old Sunnyhell well enough to get around in the inky blackness without getting lost on the way.

He might even have felt a little relieved at being back on familiar ground if it wasn’t for the fact that the minute he started to notice signs of civilization, such as it was, the prickly feeling under his skin got upgraded to shards of glass sticking into him everywhere.

Not even focusing on Buffy could do anything to lessen his torment.

When he hit the outskirts of the cemetery that his crypt would have been in if he was in his own dimension, Spike started to allow himself some hope that he’d make it to Buffy before the realm squished him like a bug. Her house wasn’t far and other than the heavy pressure of the eyes watching him, he’d had no other ‘make Spike bleed’ type encounters.

Of course, walking through a cemetery without being able to see six inches in front of your face wasn’t a great thing, either. Something Spike became intimately familiar with when he walked into a headstone with one strategically placed cross of stone on top.

“Oomph,” he grunted, when some of his, shall we say, more tender anatomy was crushed by the momentum of his body coming into up close and personal contact with the one of the arms of the cross.

Spike’s eyes flew wide when he realized what would be coming. No sooner had the words, “Oh, shit!” passed his lips then the creeping pain exploded in his nether region. Bending over in agony, agony that he’d caused himself, he threw every vile and profane statement he knew out into the void that was the sky above him.

 

********************

 

“What, exactly, are you hoping this...spell merging will do, Willow?” Giles had a frown on his face. The gang had just finished dinner and they were still sitting around the dining room table.

Dawn had her ‘listening intently’ face on, hoping Giles’ preoccupation with the combination of spells Willow had come up with would aide her in getting out of the remarkably conventional duty of washing the dishes.

Willow flashed an excited look at Tara, who smiled her support.

“Well, see, we’ve tried just about every locator spell in all the books you have, Giles, but we kept getting stuck in the same place. I can see Spike’s aura trail, bright as a new penny...or something else really, really bright, right up until it just stops. There’s some kind of wall or barrier. I’ve tried everything I know, but I can’t break through it. I think,” she glanced at Tara briefly, “well, we think that it’s another dimension or realm and that’s where Spike is now. He’s still alive, or the trail would fade. And, see, it hasn’t. Not even a little. After our last attempt, I mentioned to Tara that it would be great if I could just see what happened when Spike went through it. It must have been open to let him in, right? That’s when Tara had the idea that we could try to...um...merge my aura to his and I might be able to see what he saw when the door was open.”

“Yeah, Mr. Giles,” Tara said, “it’s something that my mom taught me how to do. You can merge your aura, your energy, with another person, and you feel what they feel, see what they see. With the trail being where it is, it should show us, or Willow anyway, the last thing Spike saw before he went through it...if he w-was actually c-conscious.”

Tara stuttered at the part that she knew to be the most painful for Dawnie to hear but it had to be said. “I mean, obviously I’ve never tried it under these circumstances before, the person is usually in the room with you, but the principle’s the same. I’m pretty sure it will work.”

“And if it does work?” asked Giles, suspicious of their reasoning but still interested. “What do you expect to see? How will it help?”

“Well,” Willow picked at the placemat in front of her, not willing to meet his eyes, “I was thinking if we at least knew where he was, there might be more we could do to get him back.”

“Wait a sec,” Xander broke in, falling a little behind in the conversation. All he knew about magic was Willow could do cool stuff like move things with her mind. Him-shaped things. And there was that handy barrier spell she did that time. Not to mention the energy bolts, good to have in any major power outage. “You said person. Am I the only one that thinks that it may be a little different considering your merging partner is a card carrying member of the ‘Pale Sun Haters’ club?”

As much as Dawn was trying to be inconspicuous so she didn’t draw any unwanted attention, she didn’t like the way Xander was always with the verbal abuse on the vampire that she cared so much about. She kicked him under the table and hissed angrily, “Xander, stop it. That’s not nice. I don’t appreciate how mean you always are to Spike. He’s important to me.”

“Dawn,” said Giles, just remembering that someone had dish duty, “kitchen, please. Now.”

She rolled her eyes in dramatically tragic fashion but got up and started cleaning up the table. Anya, who wasn’t nearly as interested in all the magicks talking as the rest, offered to help and followed her into the kitchen.

Once Dawn had left, Giles continued. He hadn’t really wanted her to hear what he felt he needed to say. “I shudder at the thought, but I agree with Xander. We just don’t know what effect a merge with the aura of a vampire could have on you. Spike’s chip doesn’t affect his thoughts or feelings, and it may just be too much for you to handle.”

Willow looked crestfallen. “But, Giles - ”

“No Willow. It’s too risky. Dawn will just have to understand that there are some things that just need to be left alone. I’ll explain it to her. She’ll be fine.”

Willow and Tara exchanged guilty and sad expressions. They knew Giles thought that Dawn had focused so hard on getting Spike back because she couldn’t deal with Buffy’s death. For a while they had thought that as well. But they’d spent a lot of time with her in the last month, researching and working the spells that they found. It had become pretty clear that Dawn still grieved deeply for her sister. The pain was still there. It was just that she cared almost as deeply for Spike as she had her sister. Dawn had never explained why, exactly, but things slip out when people spend as much time together as the three of them had. One time, Dawn mentioned that Spike made her a promise, though she hadn’t said what the promise was, and she was planning on holding him to it.

And there was one other thing. Willow had noticed that Dawn had kept the strips of towel that she had used to wrap Spike’s hands when they were sliced open by the Byzantium knight’s sword in the RV. She’d washed them carefully before keeping them hidden under her pillow. Willow never knew where Dawn found them but had asked her why she’d kept them.

She would never forget the tears that sprung into Dawn’s eyes, or the sorrow in her voice when she explained.

“He got hurt saving her,” Dawn had said in a tortured whisper. “He got hurt saving me. Protecting us...he was always protecting us. The strips remind me of everything that he did to make sure I got to see the sun rise.”

Such a small thing, saving those pieces of towel. A small thing with a huge meaning. And Willow understood.

Thinking back on that day, a few weeks ago now, Willow’s face set in a hard, uncompromising expression. She looked at Giles.

“I’m doing it.”

Giles protests weren’t long in coming. He was firm. “No, your not. Willow, it is far to dangerous - ”

In a voice Giles had only heard her use once before, back when Buffy was locked in her own mind, she said, “This is my decision. Not yours. I think it’s my turn to do something dangerous for Dawn, don’t you? I’m doing this. You can either support me or not. I don’t care. But I am doing this. I owe Dawn this much. And honestly, I think we all owe Spike this much.”

Willow pinned Xander with a steady gaze as if daring him to make a smart-assed comment about not owing ‘Evil Dead’ anything.

Wisely, he held his tongue.

“Now, Giles,” Willow swung that gaze back to the Watcher, “I can either do it here, or I can do it at home. Your choice. Either way, it’s getting done tonight.”

Finally, when she turned to Tara, her gaze softened. The two men at the table breathed inaudible sighs of relief. It was very uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of Willow’s resolve face. No matter how old you were. It left Giles and Xander no choice but to get behind Willow with their support, or be prepared to feel her scorn. Neither wanted that.

“Yes. Right then.” As far as the back peddling went, Giles did it quite well. Still managing to look sufficiently staunch and proper, he said, “Well. There’s no need for you to leave, Willow. You can use the living room.”

“Yeah, Will,” Xander nervously chimed in, “it’s cool.” No need to go all communist dictator on us.” She swung her head around and narrowed her eyes at him at that comment. He panicked. “Um...I think I’ll go clear that living room floor. Big circle, right? Yeah. Why don’t I just go do that?”

Softening again as she looked back at Tara, Willow said, “Are you with me, Sweetie? I won’t mind if you don’t want to.”

It never ceased to amaze Tara just how wonderful the woman that she loved was. Willow was always thinking of her feelings, never pushing her into something if she didn’t want to do it. It made Tara very proud to be a part of the young woman’s life. She smiled. “I’m always with you, you know that. Let’s do it.”

“Giles,” Willow informed him, “Tara will be my anchor. I’ll be weaving the spells before I send my aura to the nether realm and she’ll stay grounded in this reality to pull me out if anything goes wrong. Not that anything will, of course.” She was quick to assure him of that. As quick as she was to assure herself.

“Okay then, everyone, time to see what happened to our favorite neighborhood vampire.” Willow led the way to the living room, hoping desperately that the spell would go as planned. Hoping desperately she could give Dawn the only thing she’d asked for herself since Buffy’s death. The rescue of an old enemy.

 

*********************

 

It was probably just minutes, but it may as well have been days. That’s how long it felt he had been standing there, staring up at the house in front of him. Buffy’s house. Buffy’s house in heaven. Which looked exactly like her house in Sunnydale. Bloody hell.

_I need a smoke. Then I’ll go in, do this, send her back, get killed, and go to hell._

He reached into his pocket and brought out his pack of cigarettes. Problem was, it was empty. He’d smoked the last one hours ago. Frustrated and being driven crazy by the eyes watching him, he snarled low in his throat.

_Really have to plan better for long trips like this, mate._

The sarcasm dripped venom in his brain. Not like he could ever have conceived of a trip like this.

Now that he was here, standing in front of the steps leading up to her porch, staring up at the light shining in the windows - the only light he’d seen since passing the Sunnyhell sign several miles back - he didn’t know if he could go through with it. He did know that he couldn’t not go through with it, though, and that’s what finally got him moving.

Climbing those four steps to the porch was the longest, hardest climb he had ever made.

 _Buck up, you sod_. He castigated himself mentally for the fear and trepidation that was even now gripping his dead heart in an icy clutch. _You know you have to do this. At least you’ll get to see the girl once more. Maybe even touch her. If you’re very bloody lucky the memory will be enough to keep you cool when you’re spending the next good eternity getting all hot and toasty in hell._

Concentrating as hard as he’d ever needed to, he pushed the demon in him back just enough to allow his human features to slide into place. As uncomfortable as the feeling under his skin was - the shards of glass had went the way of the crawling bugs as he got closer and closer to his destination, it had begun feeling like he had dozens of wickedly evil butcher knives sticking into him like he was some kind of masochistic pin cushion - he would have to keep a tremendous hold on himself so the fang face wouldn’t re-emerge.

Reaching out a trembling hand, he rang the doorbell.

As if someone had been waiting just on the other side of the door for him to work up the determination to ring, it swung open while the echo of the soft, chiming peals still hung in the air.

Spike gaped at the person haloed by the warm, friendly light shining behind her, lending strength to the heavenly glow impression. He was so surprised he almost lost control of his features.

Struggling against the demon briefly and winning, he finally managed to make his voice work when she smiled at him.

“J-Joyce?”

“Hello, Spike,” Joyce said serenely, a gracious and kind expression on her face that was doubly momentous for being the first friendly thing he’d seen in this bloody realm. “Please, come in. You’ve come a long way.”

Once again shocked into speechlessness, he followed Buffy’s mom into the house, completely dumbfounded at the whole situation.

When he was finally inside, standing in the hallway, he had just enough presence of mind to remember that standing there with his mouth open wasn’t the best way to make a good impression on the one woman that had ever shown him any kindness for kindness sake.

The house was so quiet that Joyce actually heard the click of his jaws snapping closed hastily. She chuckled gently at both the sound and his expression. “I’m guessing you’re surprised to see me.”

Spike, wide-eyed, could only nod slightly.

She tried to break the ice a little by teasing him. “This _is_ heaven Spike, where else would I be?”

It had the desired effect; his face lost much of its ‘slammed upside the head with a two by four’ look. He even managed to smile a little.

“I-It’s...” Okay, so he needed to clear his throat a bit, that had come out several octaves higher than he was used to. Once done, he tried again. “It’s good to see you, Joyce. You’ve been missed.”

Slight understatement, but he’d been sincere. He doubted she’d mind, she always was a forgiving sort, what with the kindness even after trying to kill her and her daughter and all.

Joyce, still smiling, nodded her head once in acknowledgement of his kind words. “You might be surprised, Spike, but I’ve missed you too. We’ve had some nice discussions.”

Surprised? Try bloody floored; it would be closer to the truth. Pleased, but floored. He tried to hide his embarrassed pleasure by ducking his head and acting like he was checking out the living room off to his left.

“You want to see Buffy, am I right?”

The question sent his eyes flying to her face.

 _I bet he has no idea just how transparent he is_ , she thought, not unkindly. _The hope and fear just tugs at my heart. He’s so sweet, poor thing. A sweet vampire, how strange._

“H-how d-did you know?” _Bloody hell, man, pull it together. And knock off with the stuttering, you stupid git._

She giggled, actually giggled at his question and his jaw dropped again of its own volition.

“It’s all about Buffy, isn’t it? It always has been. Always will be, won’t it Spike?”

Despite the fact that he didn’t quite understand her slightly cryptic comment he found himself nodding like a hypnotized idiot. He’d never felt more like Xander in his undead life. The unpleasant comparison helped snap him out of his daze.

“She’s...here then?”

Instead of answering, she turned and called up the stairs. “Buffy, honey, you have company!”

“I think I’ll just leave you two to talk. It was good seeing you again, Spike.” With that, Joyce walked away, disappearing back into the kitchen area of the house.

Long after she was gone he remembered to mutter, “Good to see you, too, Joyce.”

He heard the steps falling on the floor above him, drawing closer to the stairs. He couldn’t have forced his legs to move if the house suddenly burst into flames around him.

Falling, tumbling, rolling down into some area around his ankles, his heart pitched out of his chest before it bounced back up and lodged in his throat. Thankful that he didn’t need to breathe, because if he did he’d have passed out long ago, he stared at the bare, dainty feet standing at the top of the stairs.

Those feet began to descend and as they did, more of her petite frame was brought into his field of vision.

Strong yet supple legs, tanned and bare in the shorts she wore. The soft flare of her hips and their gentle sway as she kept coming. Tight stomach, a flash of equally tanned flesh where her cropped shirt climbed briefly before dropping back to cover the glimpsed slice of wonder. Powerful, reed thin arms, always amazing him with their ability to both defend and comfort. Shoulders that had known the weight of the world. A neck as graceful as a swan. The silky skin of her throat. Her hair, the spun golden tresses that he had once mocked and now worshipped. His eyes drank in them all.

Finally, unable to deny himself any longer, he allowed his gaze to slip to her face. Her beautiful face. The face that had haunted his dreams for so long, leaving him hungry for more, leading him down roads he’d not thought possible. Full, soft lips, lips that had too little to smile about for too long. High, sculpted cheekbones that would make artists weep for their perfection. Adorable nose, straight and honest. And those eyes, those wide, clear eyes that were truly the windows to her soul. Eyes that he’d always wanted to plunge into, no matter how much scorn or disgust was in them for him.

But there was no disgust, no scorn now. When he looked into the tawny depths of her eyes all he saw was peace and contentment. And, oddly, acceptance.

In that instant he knew he’d found what the Oracles said was denied to one of his kind. This was his heaven, his paradise.

She had descended on high to stand two steps up from him and reached out a hand until her fingers were within a skins-width from his jaw. He could feel their heat and had the inconsequential and utterly inane thought that souls were warm.

Then she touched him and he couldn’t think anything at all.

“Spike?”


	8. Chapter 8

Oh God, she just said his name in that sexy, husky voice of hers. It was half question, half statement and hearing it brought back in vivid detail the memory of another time she’d spoken to him that way. She’d been chained to a wall in his crypt at the time. It was a lifetime ago, now, and most of that memory was full of pain and rejection, but he remembered pouring his heart out to her before she shot him down so decisively. “I’m drownin’ in you, Summers,” he’d said, “I’m drownin’ in you.”

What an idiot he’d been. He’d had no idea what drowning was until she touched his jaw with her purity and warmth.

There was such compassion in her gaze, such innocence and light. Guileless and unfettered by her earthly burdens, he watched in awe as the corners of her mouth lifted slightly into a smile that Mona Lisa would envy.

Spike forgot everything but her with that smile. It stripped him down to the barest of essentials and remade him. It filled him, completing him ways he didn’t understand and would never be able to explain. Knowing only coldness for over a century, it lit the match inside him, warmed him from the inside, from a place that vampires could never know warmth. Rocked to his core, he shuddered and pressed his cheek into her palm, blindly seeking more of her heat.

His eyes drifted closed as she let him.

 _I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry, luv. For everythin’ before and everythin’ to come. Please, I hope one day you can forgive me._ “I’m sorry.”

Spike hadn’t known his thoughts had turned into words until he heard his voice muffled by her palm.

Buffy heard his apology and misunderstood the reason behind it. “Shhh,” she said, “there’s nothing to apologize for, Spike. You did nothing wrong.”

She meant it. He could see that she meant it when he looked into her eyes again. There was no forgiveness in them only because she truly believed he had done nothing that needed forgiving.

And it was his job to rip that belief away from her. That’s why he was here.

As his purpose flooded back to him with all its harsh, ugly reality, Spike was consumed by a rage that made even the demon in him tremble at its power. Not wanting to contaminate her with his fury, he took several steps back. The childlike questioning gaze she graced him with was almost his undoing.

He wanted to kill…no, he wanted to maim and punish those that would ask for so much from her. Thirsty for vengeance, he ached to go back to the Oracles and beat them into taking it back, making it not be true. He wanted to stand tall in front of the Powers themselves, take them on with fist and fang, and demand that another way than this be found to save the world. They were the Powers, after all, the name should mean something.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no sacrifice he wouldn’t make just to remove this destiny from its intended target.

No. That’s not true. He’d been given another option, an easier way to go, and he’d declined. The only thing worse than forcing Buffy to return to a life that had shown her only heartache and loss was to allow Dawn to die in her place. Some choice.

As loathe as Spike was to admit it, he’d made the right one. Buffy was the Chosen One, the Slayer. She was born for this kind of battle. She was a warrior. Dawn was one of the many innocents the Slayer was called to protect. She’d been made that way. Blood of her blood and soul of her soul, Buffy had made her opinion of the matter known all too clearly with her fatal plunge into the portal. And if Buffy had made that choice once, Spike would fight to the death to make sure that choice was valid. He could never sacrifice Dawn.

He would sacrifice himself, instead.

Buffy had waited patiently on the stairs while he worked through his turbulent thoughts and emotions. When he realized that she had just stood there, calmly watching the myriad of expressions that must have danced across his face, he smiled wryly at her. The Buffy he knew and loved had never patiently waited for anything. Hell on wheels, that one. It was an...interesting change.

Resigned to his fate, to his duty, Spike’s rage dissipated. _Okay, mate, you made it this far. Got the girl right in front of you. Now, what you gonna do about it? How do you get her to want to go back?_

Problem was, Spike had absolutely no idea.

He took a deep breath for courage and looked at her. “We need to talk.”

She smiled again and nodded before an almost melancholy expression pooled in her eyes. “Yes, we do. There are things...things that need to be said.”

_Talk about your bloody understatements._

Buffy moved the rest of the way down the stairs and turned to head down the hallway leading to the kitchen. Spike, a little confused, followed behind her.

“Mom,” he heard her say before he made it to the kitchen, “I need to talk to Spike. We’ll be out on the back porch.”

The vampire entered in time to see the mother-daughter hug and the gentle way Joyce ran her hand down Buffy’s hair, smiling in love at her daughter. Something about the long look Joyce gave her, and the comments she’d made to him when he got there, was telling him that she knew what he was here to do. When she turned and measured him with a kind, steady gaze he saw he’d guessed right. Joyce knew, Buffy...Buffy didn’t.

“Can I get the two of you anything?” her mom asked them.

“I’m fine mom, Spike?”

As soon as Joyce asked, Spike was nearly bowled over with a craving for her nearly fame worthy hot chocolate. His mouth watered at the thought.

She must have seen his hungered expression because she smiled widely and guessed what he was thinking. “One hot chocolate, coming up. And, Spike, I think I know where I have some marshmallows stashed to keep that one,” she gestured to her daughter, teasing, “from gobbling them all in one sitting.”

“Mom!” A lighthearted and happy Buffy joined in the gentle tease fest by crossing her arms in mock irritation and superiority. “I never gobble,” she said with her nose in the air, “I daintily nibble.”

Spike, both amused and drawn in by the palpable warmth and emotion that the women shared, snorted out a chuckle.

“Right,” Joyce nodded with a glint in her eye, “you daintily nibble like a lumberjack, dear. Now go, I’ll make that hot chocolate for you, Spike, and leave it on the counter in here for you so I don’t interrupt. Then I’m going to catch up on some reading, so you two take as long as you need.”

There was more than one meaning in her words, Spike knew, just as he knew she was all right with him being here, doing what he needed to do. He felt it.

“Thank you, Joyce. It’s much appreciated.” He sent the double meaning back to her and smiled when she nodded once, slowly, in understanding.

Buffy sat down on the steps leading to the backyard and Spike lowered himself slowly beside her. He was still in a tremendous amount of physical pain thanks to the little nasties in charge of this realm, but it was the furthest thing from his mind.

Neither one of them said a word. Spike didn’t know where to begin and when he glanced at Buffy, she was just serenely taking in the dark sky above her. There wasn’t a care or concern anywhere on her face. _Bugger all. What now?_

The scene felt familiar to him; her sitting on his right, close enough to touch but not. They’d danced to this song once before.

“Well, this is just...neat,” he finally said, breaking the silence with a self-mocking drawl, “this remind you of anything, pet? Of course, I don’t have my manly shotgun with me this go ‘round, but hey - can’t have everythin’.”

Buffy’s eyes found his and she frowned slightly, as if trying to remember the time he was referring to. He saw the memory hit her and watched those eyes widen in surprise. Then she surprised the hell out of him and giggled. She tried to cover her mouth, tried to push back the sound, but he’d heard it. She giggled. Then she laughed a tinkling, happy laugh.

“Oh God,” she said, smiling widely at him, “I’d almost forgotten that night. You were so mad at me.” The smile faded a little as she remembered why he’d been so mad. “You had every right to be, you know. I wasn’t very nice to you that night. Or any night, really.”

She sighed and stared toward the back of the yard. Spike was stunned by her admission and waited, breathless and unmoving, to see if she would continue.

“Spike, I need to tell you I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t understand, and then, by the time I finally started to, things had spun completely out of control and I had a hard time just trying to remember to breathe.”

Spike was familiar with the feeling, he was going through something amazingly similar right now. All thoughts of his duty went out the proverbial window as he listened to her talk. He didn’t think Buffy spent time dissecting her emotions with anyone, let alone him. But this Buffy wasn’t his Buffy, some elemental part of Spike realized it, it was a part of her, her soul maybe, but not the whole. And the soul, when separated from the other, was untouched by fear of expression. He knew this was straight from her heart. And, damn it, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

Settling back against a post, he studied her profile and watched her mouth move. The feelings under his skin were screaming violently at him but he didn’t care. Sod off, he thought at the watching eyes, _I’m lettin’ her speak. If you want to stop it, you’re just gonna have to strike me down with one of those nice little bolts of lightnin’ you’ve got stored up._ It may not be prudent to tempt fate with such glaring hostility, but he was beyond prudent.

“The night that Glory’s minions took you,” Buffy continued, “I was off in the desert with Giles. You knew that. I never told anyone what happened there, not everything, but I want to tell you. It may help you understand the decision I made. I went out there because even before I lost mom, I’d been feeling dead inside. Withdrawn. I was so disconnected from everyone. I had been ever since...”

Buffy voice trailed off and she stopped, a deep, thoughtful expression on her face. Spike didn’t need to be psychic to know what she was thinking about. He could see it. He tilted his head and watched as she worked things out in her mind.

“Ever since Angel left.” Buffy turned her face to Spike and smiled gently. It didn’t hurt any longer to talk about it or to think about him. That was one of the blessings of this place. Spike could see her joy at the realization that she was finally free from the pain of losing her first love. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow. But then any thoughts about Buffy and Angel and their love were bitter for Spike.

“After he left, things went wacko in Buffy World. The Initiative with their nefarious demon experiments, you came back - chipped, sure, but mortal enemy number one just the same - and then Adam. Things were bad. But I was the Slayer, right, I was used to bad. I beat Adam, but the spell the gang cast to help me take him out had a nifty side affect. It brought a primal force back. I bet you never knew that. When I connected with it, with her, it changed me even more. Dracula saw it, he could sense it.”

Spike rolled his eyes at the mention of Drac. _Everyone gives that blighter so much deference just because he’s all famous and everythin’. It’s enough to make a vampire sick. Bloody poof._

“It was darkness. And it drew me in, made me dark. I started hunting every night, keeping things from Riley, from my family, from my friends. Then there was Dawn, and I found out she was The Key and had been sent to me for protection from Glory. The only person I told was Giles, so more secrets from the daughter, best friend, and girlfriend. More darkness and hiding. It felt like I was slipping deeper and deeper into something I had no control over. And you know me, I was control girl.”

She was trying to make light of her life’s pain and Spike let her, if that was what she needed to do it was fine with him. However this realm had changed her, released her from her burden, Spike was not about to interfere with it. He only hoped that when she went back, she could take that freedom with her, that she could start again refreshed and changed for the good.

“Mom got sick, Riley left, mom died. It was so painful, but at the same time it wasn’t painful enough, you know? I was able to continue on as if my life hadn’t just been ripped out from under me. That’s when I knew - or thought I did - that I was losing touch with my human side. My Buffy side was disappearing, all that was left was the Slayer. The killer.”

That shocked Spike into interrupting. He’d had no idea that she had felt that way. “Hey now, what’s that all about? You didn’t actually believe that rot did you?”

She didn’t smile but the peace on her face didn’t falter. “I believed it at the time. And if I remember correctly, even you were telling me that death was the art I made with my hands. Not a huge help in the ‘calm Buffy’s fear’ department.”

Spike wanted to stake himself. _Son of a bitch!_ No wonder she’d looked so weirded out when he was goading her that night. He’s lucky all he got was the emotionally wounding, “You’re beneath me,” instead of the touch more fatally wounding pool cue in the chest.

“I’m sorry, luv. I didn’t want-”

She surprised him by reaching up and pressing her fingers to his lips. Once again he basked in her warmth.

“No, Spike, it’s okay. I’m not trying to place blame here. I’m just explaining how things were.”

She dropped her hand and returned her gaze to the back of the yard. “When I went out there, to the dessert, I was this close to giving up the Slayer gig. I didn’t want to do it any more. I was afraid I was losing my humanity. Then I was told that death was my gift. The guide told me other stuff, but all I heard was death was my gift. It confirmed all of my worst fears. The Slayer is just a killer after all.”

Spike shook his head, “No. I don’t believe that. And even if it’s true, Buffy, you weren’t just the Slayer. You never were.”

Talking about her in the past tense was wigging him out, but he hadn’t quite reconciled the pre-plunge Buffy with the heavenly creature next to him.

Buffy was moved by his quick defense of her. He’d been doing that a lot for quite some time now. “You have no idea how much you just sounded like Giles.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. “Huh. The stuffed shirt has more sense than I thought. Who’d a known?”

She pursed her lips in feigned reproach but it was wiped away quickly with the grin she tried to hide. “I’m going to tell you something. I can’t believe I’m going to actually say it, but somehow it doesn’t scare me anymore.”

Spike could practically feel his ears perk up. _Confess away, pet._

“When you told me that you...well, you know...that you, um, had feelings for me? I thought that the reason you had those feelings - after I stopped denying to myself that you had them, anyway - was because you could sense my darkness, the change in me. That’s what I thought you…big, evil you, were drawn to. You hadn’t been much with the warm fuzzies before, back before I started falling so deep into the pit I was in, so I thought you could see the something in me that I was terrified of. That’s one of the reasons I fought so hard against it, against you. I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to be a blonde, though much better looking, Drusilla. And because I knew vampires couldn’t love without a soul, and I was afraid I was losing mine, well...that’s why you could suddenly want me.”

To say that what Buffy just told him was a surprise would have been just about as gross an understatement as saying heaven was an uncomfortable place for a vampire to visit. He was...well, there just weren’t the words to explain how he was feeling. It was a combination of anger, at himself and her, regret that he’d let her push him away like a chastened puppy instead of explaining himself better, pain that she had thought so little of herself and of him, and frustration at how different things might have been through it all if he’d just handled everything better, all mixed together and multiplied several times over.

In contrast to the strength of those feelings, his words were but a whisper of sound. “Bloody hell.”

Spike got up and paced back and forth across the porch, his long strides making it difficult to get more than four steps in before he whirled around and headed the other way. He was so agitated, his game face kept emerging and melting away. Not that he noticed. When he had calmed down enough to speak without scaring the shit out of her, he jumped down from the porch in one leap and knelt at her feet, gazing up at her with his clear, blue eyes.

“Okay,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm, “first of all, you need to knock off with the prattle about vampires not lovin’ without a soul. There are plenty of soulless creatures - and not all evil, mind you – walkin’ the planet, quite capable of love and all the other, more merry emotions. Just as there are plenty of soddin’ humans prancin’ about with their tortured little souls, completely incapable of lovin’ anyone - even themselves. Next item; I didn’t tell you I had ‘feelings’ for you - what kind of nancy-boy poofta would say that? No. I told you I loved you. And I bloody well meant it. And news flash, blondie, I’ve loved you since the first time we went toe to toe. Hell, even Drusilla saw it, you heard her yourself. Saw it before I ever did, that one. That’s why she left me...BOTH SODDIN’ TIMES! So, if you think it was just that ‘darkness’ I was keyin’ in on, you are about as wrong as anything Xander considers a good fashion idea, cuz it just ain’t so.

“It was always the light, Buffy. Always your light, your fire, the passion you took to everythin’, and your strength that I fancied. If I’d wanted darkness I would have stayed with my ex-loon. Or gone back with her when she showed up in good ole Sunnyhell to make all our lives a little more interestin’. But no, I didn’t. It’s you, luv, its always been you.”

If he had hoped that his declaration would create a wave in her eerily placid and peaceful condition, he was destined for disappointment. She listened calmly to everything he said, smiling now and again - especially at the Xander clothes comment - and waited for him to finish before looking him straight in the eye and saying, “I know.”

He exploded. “Y-you KNOW?!”

She nodded her head, flinching just a touch at his roar. “Shh. Keep it down, will ya? Not everyone here likes loud, yelly vampires.”

“Keep it...? Loud, yelly...?” It was too much for Spike, he had just had the biggest of all the biggies dropped square in his lap and he just didn’t know what to think about it. In a hoarse whisper he growled, “What in the bloody hell do you mean, you bleedin’ know?”

One of her shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. “I’ve known since the day I went to your crypt after Glory tortured you. When I found out that Glory had you, I was coming to kill you - not rescue you. I just knew you would give Dawn up. I was wrong. When you told me that you knew losing Dawn would destroy me, and you’d rather die then see that happen, that’s when I knew.”

Spike didn’t know how to take her knowing. He knew she’d been grateful, the kiss she’d given him told him that, but he’d had no idea that she’d resigned her disbelief that he was capable of love. He wished he’d had more time - it wasn’t long after that morning that things turned to shit. If he’d had more time, if she’d had more time to accept what she found out, then maybe...

_But you can’t live on maybes, mate. You have to play the hand you’ve been dealt. No matter how miserable it is._

“Spike, listen. When I was standing on that platform, seeing the dimensional walls falling while the sun rose, holding Dawn back from leaping to her death, I remembered the rest of what the guide told me in the desert and everything finally made sense. I had been so frantic with fear, convinced I was just a killer, ripped apart at the choice I was left with. How could I kill my sister? She was a part of me. The only part that I loved anymore.”

So that’s what she had started to say back in the magic shop. He’d wondered. She’d cut herself off before she finished. Now that he knew everything that she had been struggling through emotionally and mentally, he wasn’t surprised.

“The guide told me I was full of love. That it was brighter than the fire, but I pulled away from it when it blinded me. She told me that the only way I could ever lose love was if I rejected it. ‘Love. Give. Forgive.’ That’s what she told me. Love would lead me to my gift. When I remembered that I knew I didn’t have to sacrifice Dawn. I loved her so much I could die for her. I loved all of you so much. And now, all the pain and fear and pressure is gone. I made the right choice. I don’t want you to be sorry that it happened, Spike. There is nothing to forgive.”

Respect for her and her courage had just risen to a whole new level. As had the difficulty to tell her what he needed to tell her. But he’d just been given the perfect opportunity to jump in with what he’d really meant when he’d said he was sorry earlier, why he was here. So why wasn’t he speaking?

Spike started to, several times, but he was still kind of stuck at the, “I loved all of you so much,” part. That time it had left no doubt that he was included on the precious list of Buffy’s favorite people. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she wasn’t making a declaration of passionate love, but he’d just been upgraded from monster to friend. That takes a while for a vampire to get used to. He’d never dared dream he’d get that far. And now, to have to ask her to go back to her life, a life that had made her believe she was nothing but a killer? It wasn’t fair.

So little is.

This was his choice. If she didn’t go, the world would fall into a hellish vortex of pain and misery. Her gift was her death? Ironically, his was her life. Isn’t that a bleedin’ riot.

The time had come to seal his fate. “Umm. Buffy. I have somethin’ to tell you and I’m havin’ a hard time doin’ it, so you may have to bear with me a bit.”

She gazed at him expectantly, completely unaware of how drastically her existence was set to change. When he saw that look, it struck him that she’d never questioned why he was here. There were more changes in her than he’d first realized.

Finally, it dawned on him what it was that was missing. This was Buffy, but all parts of the Slayer had been separated and left behind. There was no warrior left in her. For the first time, Spike felt fear that he would be able to get her to go back. How can you beseech the Chosen One to return to the fight if there was no Chosen One to beseech?

“When I said I was sorry earlier,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t just apologizin’ for what happened the night you...died.” _Okay, mate, try to keep it together_. “I’m here for a reason, pet. I was sent here for a reason.”

He paused, partly to work up the courage to finish and partly to see if she would be curious enough to question him on his reasons. She wasn’t, she just waited calmly and serenely. Spike was really starting to dislike that about her.

“I was sent here to get you to go back.”

Nothing. No change in her expression, it was almost like she didn’t even hear what he said. That can’t be a good thing.

“There’s some big evil brewin’ down the road, luv, and I was told you were the only one who could stop it. That’s why they sent me.”

Still nothing, just that same serenity and grace that he’d seen in her all along. No frowning concern, hell, even fear would be some kind of reaction, she didn’t even look mildly worried. Spike was past dislike and quickly approaching irritation.

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl? I said you have to go back and live. Your time isn’t finished yet. There’s more for you to do.”

Finally, she spoke, “No, there’s not.”

Sighing at his incredulous expression, wanting to make him understand, she pulled him up from his spot at her feet and had him sit next to her. She took one of his hands in hers.

“I’m through, Spike. I made my sacrifice. This is my world now. My mom’s here, and I’m happy for the first time in longer than I can remember. The dance is finally finished for me. If what you’re saying is true, the Powers will find some other way to solve it. That’s what they do. Not to mention the Watcher’s council. I know that there wasn’t another Slayer called because I’d already died once before, if only for a short time, but I know the council. If things start to go bad back there, they’ll either get Faith out of prison, or if she’s still too emotionally damaged, they’ll do something else to get her ready to fight. They are surprisingly resourceful. Either way, it’s not my problem anymore.”

Even knowing her rejection was a possibility, Spike was still dumbfounded by it. “Not your problem? It bloody well is your problem. Buffy, the things I was shown, the things comin’, they’re right awful stuff. This isn’t vampire bad, either, this isn’t even apocalypse bad, this is Armageddon bad. Total destruction of every bit of light left in the world. Hell’s demons released to consume each and every livin’ thing in it. And I’m telling you, you are the only one that can prevent it. They told me you weren’t just the Chosen One, Buffy, you were THE Chosen One.”

“Keyword there, Spike, is ‘were’. I’m not the Slayer anymore. I’m sorry.” She did look a little sorry to disappoint him, but it was the equivalent of a ‘sorry I broke your china plate’ kind of sorry, instead of a ‘sorry I’m not helping you prevent the world from plunging into an eternity of torment and despair’ kind of sorry. Her sorry wasn’t nearly good enough.

“Don’t look at me that way, Buffy, you need to do this. Think of your sister, your friends. They’ll die.”

“Everyone dies, Spike, even you. No one’s immortal. Long-lived, maybe, but not immortal. And when they die they come here. How is that a bad thing?”

Suddenly there was nothing but cold fury at her cavalier attitude. This was not his Buffy at all. This soul in front of him was nothing like the woman he loved, and in that instant he hated her as much as he had loved the other. He spun around, completely disillusioned and horrified at her reactions, and headed back into the house.

He pulled off his duster and tossed it over a chair by the table, then grabbed the now only mildly tepid hot chocolate that Joyce made for him. In his mind, he cursed the day he’d ever met the girl whose soul could turn its back on the world.

Spike didn’t know what to do. His mind raced even as he drank the hot chocolate, trying to figure out what his next move should be. Halfway through the cup it hit him. _How do you get the Chosen One to return to the fight if there’s no Chosen One left? You bring the Chosen One back._

He grinned coldly into the empty kitchen, suddenly realizing how it needed to be done and cursing the Oracles once again. He’d bet money they were all too aware of what was necessary. That’s why they didn’t just send him back after he refused their first offer and pick someone who wouldn’t be threatened by this realm, someone with a soul - like Giles, or even Xander. Because nothing got the Vampire Slayer’s attention faster than a vampire intent on evil.

Something inside Spike broke and shattered like fine-blown glass. Less than five minutes after he finds out he’d been accepted as a friend, he now has to remind her what a monster he really is. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He set the mug down on the table with cold finality and headed back out the door, letting the demon - who’d been pushing at him hard ever since he’d stepped through the door to this realm - have free reign of his features and attitude.

The Big Bad had come home.

Spike startled her. She’d heard the door open behind her, but had expected him to walk over and sit down next to her again. She liked talking to him. He had been a good friend. Instead of walking over to her, though, he walked to the railing and leapt over it, landing with his back to her. It made her jump a little.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, pet?”

“Is something wrong? What are you doing?”

He turned his head so she could see his game face in profile. “I’m just checkin’ out the scenery, luv. Gotta say, heaven leaves a bit to be desired. I mean, come on. This is what all you poor sods have to look forward to? An eternity of this? Ask me, I’d rather be roastin’ in Hell’s playground. Be more interestin’ anyway.”

Buffy didn’t like the sound in his voice, it was so sarcastic and cynical. It had been a long time since she’d heard him sound like that. “Spike, stop it. Come, sit down. What’s wrong with you?”

Spike turned and stared at her, his gold eyes glowing eerily in the dim light coming from the kitchen window. One lip curled into a sneer. “Now that’s a good question. I was just in the kitchen wonderin’ that myself. Vampire, come to heaven to get the Slayer to save the world. Don’t know what the bloody hell I was thinkin’, but I can assure you, Sweet Cheeks, I’m well over it.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t give two pips for what happens to the world. I say let it slip into hell. Hope the nice, evil demons kick off their reign of terror by slurpin’ down those wanker friends of yours first. Hope it hurts like a bitch, too. Sad lot, them. They deserve it.”

Spike could feel the realm reacting to the change in his tactics. It felt like the atmosphere was thickening noticeably. He couldn’t see it in the sky, even though it did appear to be growing lighter, but he would bet those sick looking yellow storm clouds were back, rolling toward him with righteous fury. He just hoped he had a chance to finish before they got here. And he hoped he could keep up this charade, it was tearing him apart.

“Please don’t say that, Spike. I know they aren’t your favorite people but that’s just mean.”

“Mean? That the best you can do? Christ, I’ve eaten five year olds with a broader vocabulary than that. Are you sure you’re not a natural blonde?”

Buffy frowned, not liking the reminder of what Spike did before he got the chip in his head. “Stop it.”

“Well that’s just...pathetic, pet. I do believe you may be slippin’. And you know what? I just had an interestin’ thought. What with you not bein’ human anymore, I’m wonderin’ if that soddin’ chip in my head will care if I knock you off that high horse you’ve been ridin’ around all this time. Whaddya think? Wanna give it a go?”

Spike stalked over to her with predatory intent, trying to ignore the fiery agony his body was in, trying to forget how much he loved the woman whose soul was staring at him with large, haunting eyes. Eyes that showed fear.

“Please, Spike, don’t.” Buffy’s bottom lip trembled slightly. She couldn’t believe this was happening. The Spike she had grown to care about over the past several weeks was gone and the evil creature he’d been was standing in front of her. And he hated her.

Spike couldn’t look at her eyes, there was such disillusionment in them. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. He knew this was going to hurt him a hell of a lot more than it hurt her.

“Oh, I think it should be ‘Please Spike, do.’“

His left arm snaked out with lightning speed and he popped her in the face with a quick jab. She fell back hard into the deck and her head cracked loudly on the wood. As soon as he hit her, his head exploded in pain with the electrical revenge the chip took on his head. He had been afraid of that. She may not be alive, but the chip still viewed her as human. He fought to stay on his feet.

Fortunately, Buffy had been so distracted by his punch that she hadn’t seen him bend over in pain and clutch his head. At far as she knew, it hadn’t hurt him at all. It was important she continue to believe it so he forced air into his dead lungs to try to speed the recovery time from the major zapping he just took.

By the time she picked herself up and looked at him with tears falling down her face, he’d recovered enough to speak - he hoped.

“Hey now! That was a right good time. Gave me a rush of lovely little tingly feelin’s, it did. How ‘bout you, luv?” Spike forced himself to sneer maliciously at her - dying inside at her tears. “No, huh? Sorry ‘bout that. I do so love to have my partners enjoy themselves as much as I do. I bet I can do better. Maybe we should have another go.”

Buffy didn’t know what to think. This creature in front of her was everything she’d ever feared in Spike. He was a monster. “No. Please, Spike. No. Don’t do this. Just go.”

 _Damn it, woman! Fight back! Come on, Buffy, give it me good. Don’t make me keep doin’ this to you._ Spike realized she wouldn’t raise a hand to defend herself. He had to up the stakes.

“All right, Buffy, or should I start callin’ you Fluffy? Hmmm, I like that. Anyway, I’ll go. I think I’ll head back to good ole Sunnyhell, the real one - not this pitiful mock up. I wonder how lil’ sis is dealin’ with your abrupt departure.”

 

Spike forced back the demon visage and gave Buffy his most sincere expression, his wounded, hurting look. That part was easy, he just had to let himself remember her broken body on the bricks at the construction site. The hard part was still to come.

 

“I bet I can comfort her real good. I’d wager she’d take one look at the crushed vampire in love and be more than willin’ to offer some comfort of her own. She’s always had a soft spot for me, ya know.”

 

He shot her a look filled with heat and desire, a look of pure sexual longing. His right hand came up to stroke his chest with slow, seductive purpose before working its way down his stomach to the waistband of his black jeans, pausing briefly, teasingly, and then dropping down to his crotch. He rubbed himself almost lazily, never taking his eyes off of the girl, searching for any sign that she was coming back. He had to be careful, thinking of Buffy while discussing Dawn in such a way or it wouldn’t work. He forced naked Buffy thoughts into his head as he rubbed his crotch, ignoring the vile words and suggestions that were coming out of his mouth. It was working, he hardened under his ministrations.

 

Buffy saw his erection and dropped her eyes, repulsed, refusing to raise them again as his verbal assault continued.

 

“I wonder how long I’ll need to play the poncy puppy before she spreads those dimpled knees for me. I’d be her first. Isn’t that neat. I just can’t wait to wrap my hands around her perky little tits while her hot, tight little box wraps around her first cock. I’ll ruin her for human boys, right enough. What’s that old saying? Once you’ve had fang, you know you’ve been banged? Oh, right - you know that one, don’t you?”

“Bet she burns for me, baby. Bet she weeps for me. Don’t worry, sis, I’ll take real good care of her for you. Protect her right and proper, just like I promised. Nothin’ will touch her when I’m using her nubile little body, poundin’ into her over and over. I’ll mark her, let all the Sunnydale badies know she’s mine - no one will touch her but me. And I will touch her. Everywhere. I’ll bury my hands, my mouth, my tongue into that succulent little quim of hers for hours.”

“Tell me, pet. When I’m finished teachin’ her everything to know about fucking a vampire do you think she’ll be amenable to suckin’ me off every once in a while? I do love a good blowjob. I’ll just bet those glorious lips of hers will look positively mind blowin’, no pun intended, wrapped around my hard cock.”

“Oh, and when I get bored with human pussy I’ll make sure I change her. By the time hell comes a knockin’ at the Sunny D ranch, she’ll be so in love with me she’ll beg me to change her. Plead with me. She’ll open her own veins - I won’t even need to touch her. I didn’t get to kill you, mores the pity, so I’ll have to settle for that as my one good day.”

Buffy had been barraged with the vile mental images to the point she felt sick. _He’ll do it_. There was no mistaking that. _He will go back and seduce and use Dawnie until he kills her._

Over her dead body.

Spike never knew what hit him. One minute he was standing in front of what was left of the Slayer, her head down and shoulders slumped in defeat, feeling like the lowest scum in the world for what he was saying to her, the next he was flying though the air, sent there by a series of flying punches that ended in an uppercut with so much power in it that it plowed his body into a tree from fifteen feet away.

He barely hit the ground before she was on him, gripping him by the throat with one hand and lifting him off his feet. The realm was reacting violently to the show of aggression, as well as to his presence. He saw lightning in the distance, and the difference in shading from the clouds now that the sky had lightened considerably. Well, he did between her flying fists, anyway.

She was screaming at him, too, calling him names he hadn’t even known she knew. So much for the vocabulary of a five year old. It would have amused him if she wasn’t beating him to a bloody pulp. But there was no way he was going to stop her. He deserved it. And he wanted to make sure, if she was back, if the Slayer was back, that she stayed back.

Buffy moved back a step and Spike thought it was over, until she spun into a spinning drop kick that sent him flying again. He fell back to the ground and didn’t move. Not once did he raise his hands to protect himself.

Buffy, a vibrating ball of fury, advanced on the pummeled Spike and grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him off the ground and bringing his face close to hers. “I’m going to say this once, Spike, so listen closely. If I ever hear you so much as say her name again, I’m going to rip your head off your body and shove it up your sick, evil, perverted ass before you get a chance to dust. If I ever find out you were ever in the same building with her, I will hunt you down like the monster you are. I will remove every single protruding part from your body and watch as you bleed for long days before I stake your ass for good and send you to the hell you so richly deserve. You get me?”

Through a haze of pain inflicted by the realm and the girl hovering over him, he looked into her eyes, searching, questioning the result of the abominable thing he just did to her. It was over, and he’d paid his dues to get it done. Her eyes told the story and he smiled slightly despite the gaping emotional wound in his chest at what he saw there.

“Yeah, I get you, Slayer. Took you long enough. Bloody hell, you almost friggin’ killed me. Welcome back.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Have they started yet?”

Giles jumped a little at Dawn’s voice, he was just closing the separating doors between the living room and hallway to give Willow and Tara some privacy and he hadn’t heard Dawn come up behind him.

“Oh, no. They’re just finishing setting up now.” Giles tried for a supportive smile but it came off rather sickly looking. “I’m sure they’ll be starting momentarily.”

Dawn studied Giles’s expression, searching for signs of what he was feeling. He was the hardest of the group for her to read. _Probably the whole old British guy thing_. Of course, there’s always the hard way...actually asking him what he thought. Not normally her first choice, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

“So,” Giles asked her, wondering why she was staring at him so intensely, “did you finish the dishes?”

His question earned him another large eye roll and a deep sigh. Oh, the horrors the average teen must go through in life. Not that Dawn was your average teen - in any aspect.

“Are you, like, okay with this spell stuff now?” Dawn needed to find out just where he stood in the matter. It was important to have everyone working together.

Giles actually watched in wonder as the teen gave way to the young woman right before his eyes. She was terribly focused on this Spike business and it made Giles uncomfortable. He was in no way going to hide that from her, as if he could, but he didn’t want to seem too overbearing and risk alienating her, either.

“I’ll be honest with you, Dawn, I don’t believe Willow is fully aware of just what she’s getting herself into. The aura of a vampire is bound to be vastly different than that of a human. I know you want Spike back, but I don’t believe it’s worth risking Willow’s safety, o-or Tara’s for that matter. I know you are still grieving for your sister, we all are, but this isn’t the way to deal with that.”

Dawn frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, angry and surprised at the Watcher. “Is that what you think? That I’m trying to bring Spike back because...what...because I can’t deal with Buffy dying?”

Giles had tried to let the girl go through the grief process in her own time, but it had come to a point where another’s well being was at risk. He knew that Willow wouldn’t put an end to it, she was doing this for Dawn, but if he could get Dawn to see, and to admit that she may just be using Spike’s disappearance as a crutch, then she may be willing to stop it before it goes too far.

“I believe,” Giles chose his words carefully and spoke slowly, “that, subconsciously at least, you may be transferring your desire to have Buffy back onto Spike.”

He had been well aware that finally telling her what he thought about her obsession with Spike would get a reaction, he hadn’t anticipated that reaction coming in the form of being grabbed by the wrist and pulled down the hallway to the kitchen. But that’s what Dawn did. She closed the kitchen door behind them and sat down at the table. Giles, moving a bit cautiously because he had no idea what to expect, lowered himself to a chair across from her.

The eyes that bored into him were positively ancient. She had lifted the barrier to her soul so there would be no question about her pain. Giles was left feeling quite small when compared to the anguish he saw there. When she spoke, her voice - that of a normal fourteen-year-old girl instead of the wise woman he saw in her eyes - was trembling with emotion. It was a decidedly surreal experience.

“Okay, first...transference? Please. How old do you think I am? ‘Cuz that would be understandable if I was, like, ten. Secondly, Buffy died. There’s no coming back from that.” As soon as she said it, she remembered what happened with her mom and quickly clarified, “Well, no way that leads to goodness, anyway. Do I still hurt? Yeah, a lot.”

Dawn, losing a touch of her bravado as she admitted just how much, looked down at her clenched hands and picked at one of her nails nervously. “Sometimes, when I wake up in the morning, I forget that it happened, I smell breakfast cooking, something mom or Buffy would cook for me - well, okay, mostly mom...Buffy wasn’t all that culinarily capable - and it’s like nothing ever happened. No Glory, no Key business, nothing. Then it hits me and I remember. And I can’t breathe because my chest hurts so bad.”

Dawn couldn’t look at Giles, her eyes filled with tears that spilled over and fell down her cheeks. There was a lump in her throat and she had to swallow to be able to talk around it.

“But I have to. I have to breathe, I have to eat, I have to go to school. I have to grow up, grow old. Because that’s what life is. Buffy gave me that.”

Giles didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he could say anything. He reached up and slowly removed his glasses and set them on the tabletop, wiping at his eyes quickly as he did it. Dawn sighed and raised her head, pinning him with her gaze. The anguish was there, he could see it, but it had muted slightly when she spoke, when she released some of the pent up emotion. It wasn’t so raw and aching.

“Plus, you know, in a way I haven’t really lost Buffy at all. You guys don’t realize just how much of Buffy is in all of you, but I see it.”

Curious, Giles asked, “What do you mean?”

Dawn’s brow furrowed in thought as she tried to explain it to him. “Well, it’s like each of you is a different part of her. You’re her responsible side, her adultness kind of, and her smarts. And now, thanks to the Dawn-sized addition to your family, you’re the caretaker side, too.”

Giles smiled tenderly at her.

“Willow is kind of like Buffy’s spirit, her love and her conscience. Xander’s the loyalty, the dedication and willingness to fight, no matter what the odds. It’s like he’s her heart, ya know?”

Suddenly, Giles started to really hear what Dawn was saying. How eerily similar it was to the parts they all played in the adjoining spell they did against Adam before Dawn was even with them. They never told Dawn about the spell. Or, better put, there were no monk-induced memories about telling Dawn about the spell. It chilled him. There was destiny in Dawn’s words; Giles could sense it, and fate.

Spiritus...Spirit. Animus...heart. Sophus...mind.

And Giles just knew what would be coming.

“I’m not transferring, Giles. I swear. I love Buffy, but she’s gone. Spike isn’t. He was taken, but he’s still alive. And…I need him. I can’t explain it any better than that. I love all of you, and I love him too. Like a big brother, though, so don’t freak on me, okay?”

When she was sure Giles wasn’t going to lecture her on having feelings for Spike, yet anyway, she picked up where she left off.

“He’s a big part of Buffy, too, I guess. And I know he’ll protect me, protect all of us - like Buffy did. He’s the fighter, the warrior side of Buffy. I need him, but I also think we need him.”

And there it was. Manus...hand.

It could be just a coincidence, Giles thought as he turned the ramifications of Dawn’s words over and over in his mind. But there wasn’t much, in his experience, that was coincidence when you lived near a Hellmouth. Giles didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t coincidence.

“Plus,” Dawn’s voice had become little more than background music to Giles’ musings, “you gotta know that as soon as the bad guys spread the word about an un-Slayer protected Hellmouth in Sunnydale, this place is going to turn into a really scary, and...you know, way uglier version of Mardi Gras.”

Dawn looked at Giles and stopped talking. He looked kind of dazed, like he just got some disturbing news. _Oh geez. I knew I shouldn’t have told him all that stuff about how I feel about Spike. He’s totally wigged. Way to go, Dawn, now he’s never going to want to help getting Spike back_. She gave herself a few good mental kicks, trying to make a note never to do the deep confession thing with him anymore. The man just couldn’t handle it.

In so thinking, Dawn was jolted a bit when Giles finally refocused his eyes and looked at her.

“I think you might be right, Dawn. I think we may need to get Spike back.”

Dawn didn’t know what to say. Okay...that was a little easier than I thought it would be. But then, she WAS fourteen, and there wasn’t a fourteen year old alive that ever looked a gift horse in the mouth. She beamed a grateful smile on the man that would always be the closest thing to a father she would ever have and he reached out, covered her hand with a supportive squeeze.

“Come on,” he said, “we’ll just go see how the girls are progressing, shall we?”

Giles hurried down the hall, Dawn close on his heels. He opened the door to the living room where the girls were. No sooner had they stepped into the room than a blinding ball of light burst forth from where Willow sat, cross-legged, on the floor beside Tara. Giles and Dawn had to shield their eyes at the glare.

The ball of light raised up, floating toward the ceiling and then passing through it. As soon as it vanished from sight, the room started to shake and a strong wind started to materialize, spinning like a small vortex around Willow.

And then all hell broke loose.

 

********************

 

It had taken Willow and Tara a lot longer to prepare for the spell than they had thought. But Willow wanted to be as sure as she could that she was really ready. Much of the confidence she had shown to the group after dinner had been all show. She wasn’t brave, she knew that. She’d always been the first person to admit she was not happy in the role of ‘go to’ guy.

But this spell was more important that trembling in fear. It was the only way Willow had to try to get rid of some of her guilt issues since Buffy died. And she did have issues. A lot of issues. Not that she’d told anyone about them.

Ever since it happened, Willow had been plagued with the knowledge that she had not been a very effective member of the team in the fight against Glory. Buffy had been counting on her, going so far as to label her with the terrifying burden of being ‘The Big Gun’.

Big gun, right, more like a peashooter. Where had Willow been when Buffy was keeping Glory away from Dawn? Knocked out. And when she came to? All thoughts had been of Tara. The dimensional walls were getting ready to fall, her friends and loved ones were fighting for their lives, and all she had done was go to Tara. By the time she’d turned her attention back to the fight, that Doc guy…demon…whatever, had already gotten up to Dawnie. Sure, she’d been impressively commandery with her little mind works, getting Spike up those stairs, but it had been too little, too late.

And the sad thing is if she had it to do all over again, Willow knew she’d do the exact same thing. Hence the heaping portions of guilt.

But she should have been more prepared. What about that transportation spell they had tried once before on Glory? That had worked. Sure, big honkin’ migraines for weeks with a hearty side order of daily nosebleeds, but, hey...still better than a dead Buffy.

She could have transported Glory out of there until the time ran out on the ritual. Then Buffy could have gone and gotten Dawnie and squished Doc like the big, ugly, long-tongued demony cockroach that he was. It’s not like Glory wouldn’t have shown back up after the fact for some God sized payback - and Willow could have brain drained her then to help Tara. Without the universe’s destruction and Dawn’s life hanging in the balance.

Point being, there were a lot of things she could have done and none of them got done, so Buffy’s dead.

And if Willow really examined her motives, that was why she was so willing to do something that was so scary. Merge auras with a vampire? Oh, sure, no problem. Just a walk in the park. Yeah, like Central Park...at midnight...wearing lots of jewelry...in skimpy clothing...yelling, “Please come rob me, kill me, and rape me now!”

But she was going to do it. For Dawn. For Spike. For herself.

When Tara had suggested in that sweet way she had that they may want to try some meditation exercises before they proceeded, Willow had leapt on the idea. Meditation should help get her aura straightened out before it came in contact with one that was sure to be just chock full of snaky, evil badness.

By the time they had gotten that done Willow did feel better. More in tune with herself. And everything else that could possibly be used as a stall tactic was forcibly pushed to the back of her mind. It was time.

They sat next to each other, legs crossed and almost touching. Willow was facing the window, Tara, the doorway leading into the dining room. There were candles lit in a circle around them, and incense burning.

Clasping hands tightly with Tara after leaning in for a quick, supportive kiss, Willow started to gather her magickal energies. She could feel Tara calling hers. It was a comfortable feeling, a familiar feeling. They had worked so many spells together, it was as easy as sliding into your favorite pair of sneakers.

Then Willow started to recite the merged spells.

It was powerful, she could feel it pulling her mind, drawing her into the nether realm. Again, something that she had a lot of experience with lately. This part didn’t frighten her at all. She let her aura slip away from her body and follow the siren call into the abyss.

In the back of her mind she could feel Tara, gently reaching out a tendril of grounding energy, like a life line, that would keep the two of them connected just enough for Tara to be able to pull her out if things didn’t go according to plan. She got a quick jolt of love and acceptance when it brushed against her aura, then she felt it burrow in, grab a hold, and prepare for what was to come.

Willow used her mind’s eye to see what was going on and followed mentally as her aura continued on into the nether realm. It didn’t take long, it’s not like the first few times when she had to tentatively ‘feel’ her way through this long passageway. No, this was a path well worn by use, and soon she could see Spike’s aura glowing brightly in front of her.

There was always a little emotional trill of relief that danced through Willow every time she came upon Spike’s trail. It was a constant assurance that he was still alive.

Willow started to direct her aura down the pathway, toward where the barrier cut off the trail. That was the plan. She would merge auras with Spike right at the cutoff point, so she could see what he had seen when the door opened.

The first indication that things weren’t going to go according to the plan came almost immediately after Willow gave the first mental nudge to her aura. It pushed against her slightly, resisting just a fraction instead of floating away like it should. Then, when it was finally moving forward a bit, and Willow was getting ready to follow it, it stopped. Before she could reach her mind out, she saw it turn and move towards the starting point of Spike’s trail.

That was not supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to move on its own and it certainly wasn’t supposed to change direction as if making a conscious choice. Willow, quickly filling with dread and starting to get the ‘big spell gone bad’ wiggins, tried to reach her mental arm out to stop it but it breezed past her, just out of reach. There was nothing she could do but watch in horror as it spread out and neared Spike’s aura, brushing it slightly.

There wasn’t even time to sever the connection and return to her own plane.

She was hit with a wave of debilitating emotion so intense that it almost made her retch. Stunned, she watched as her aura infiltrated his, green mixing with the coppery color, swirling together as one. She tried to send out a mental call to Tara for help, but it was stopped before it began as the next, even more powerful surge of tsunami-strength feelings battered her.

Then, there was a physical wrenching sensation from her body. Something - her soul, her essence, Willow didn’t know - separated from her core and hurtled into the realm. Her mind’s presence was in the way and got bowled over as it passed through. It, too, was being attracted by Spike’s aura and Willow watched it join with the shimmering thread. It was the last thing she saw, that she recognized, as an observer.

Suddenly, all she could see was blackness. All she could feel was agony, hatred, wrath, vengeance, loss, heartbreak, and sorrow. The maelstrom of emotions overwhelmed her, stripped everything that was Willow away from her. It was Spike. She was Spike. And all she knew were his feelings. All she was were his feelings.

With a tug and a jolt, she moved down the path of Spike’s trail, knowing - in some dark corner of what was left of her individual mind - that she would now experience everything he had as he’d experienced it. And she knew, too, that it just might kill her.

 

********************

 

Buffy glared down at the beaten vampire with disgust and contempt. How had she ever thought this creature could ever be anything more than a monster? The things he said...the sick pleasure he took in saying them. God, the gang was right, she really was a poor judge of character to let this thing anywhere near her family.

And the things she told him, the way she’d confided in him before he went all pedophile vamp on her, it made her want to bite off her own tongue. The bastard.

Buffy pulled an unresisting Spike to his feet and threw him away from her, as if touching him, having him anywhere near her was too revolting to deal with.

He shuffled back a bit, trying to keep his balance after being so abruptly discarded, and he winced at the pain in his side. _Bleedin’ hell. I think she broke another rib. Wish she’d just stake me. Be better than seeing that look in her eyes. Don’t blame her though, if it’d been me hearin’ some prig talk about Nibblet like that, I’d a ripped out his beatin’ heart - chip or not._

“Start talking, Spike.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, waiting to see how he was going to worm his way out of what had just happened. Not that she was going to believe a single apology or attempt at reconciliation. She’d fallen for that one just about a dozen times too many from him.

Spike saw the woman standing a few feet from him with absolute clarity. He had no illusions that she was perfect - she was bloody well far from perfect. She was arrogant, irritating, bossy, and way too quick with the ‘hit first, ask questions later’ bit...well, okay, so that was actually something he admired about her. Except when it was directed at him. She blamed him for everything that went wrong in her life and she thought he was just a few steps farther down on the ‘Things I want to Have Around’ list than dirty knickers. All in all she was a not-so-pleasant person.

So why did he love her so much that it physically hurt him more to suffer her contempt and hatred than her punches and kicks? Because of the rest of it, the loyalty, the passion, the caring, the strength...everything else in her made it impossible not too. _You’re royally buggered, mate. She’d sooner spit on you right now as look at you, and you still can’t even stand the thought of life without her. Not like that’s a bloody concern, what with knowin’ how this play’s gonna end._

After waiting for Spike to say something, preparing for his excuses and apologies, Buffy started to get very impatient when he just stood there...well, okay, so he’s really more swaying than standing, but still, she didn’t appreciate the wait. She stormed up to him and shoved him hard in the chest to get his attention.

He fell back into the trunk of the tree and even Buffy winced a little at the grinding sound of a broken bone in his chest. He didn’t make a single sound of complaint at the pain.

“I don’t think we’re communicating, Spike, because I appear to be the only one speaking. I’m waiting for you to say something.”

Spike hung his head, the only person that could possibly hate him more right now than Buffy did was himself. He wished he could her tell how sorry he was for doing what he did, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t ask her to forgive him because he couldn’t forgive himself.

He didn’t want to have to say all the going back stuff again, either. He’d hoped she would come back to herself and just decide to go. Didn’t look like he had any more luck on him than he did cigarettes.

“I told you, Slayer. I was sent here to get you to go back. Told you were the only one that could stop a major redecoratin’ of the entire planet. Pair that tapped me didn’t tell me how it’s to start, but I saw the end. Not somewhere you want to bundle up the kiddies for a nice family vacation, if you get my meanin’.”

That wasn’t what she expected him to say, and something about the fact that he wasn’t apologizing bothered her for some reason. But what did she expect? No soul, no conscience, no apology. It’s funny, though, she’d gotten used to him being more repentant of late. It made her mad that she cared that he wasn’t sorry. Her voice lashed out at him unmercifully. “Who sent you?”

“Oracles, they said. Called themselves ‘seerers’ and ‘guides’. Right odd bunch, those two. Big on the mind speak. Seem to be some kind of mouthpiece for a group called the Powers.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the story. It didn’t make sense. Why send Spike? He was a vampire, he wasn’t even on the Power’s side. “Why you. Why did they send you?”

There was no way in hell Spike was going to explain to this hostile chit in front of him about the first idea the Oracles came up with, and why they had thought he’d be amenable to it, and he couldn’t tell her about why he believed they had sent him to heaven. If she found out that his little wake up call had been a ruse, she may let go of that anger. He didn’t know if that would trigger the Slayer part to slip away again, but he couldn’t risk it. He didn’t want to lie to her, but then again he didn’t have to.

“They never actually said why they chose me, Slayer. One minute I’m in the construction site after the Glory thing went down, next I was talking to a couple of green and gold, toga wearin’ entities. They’re big on the ancient Rome theme, in case you’re interested.”

He couldn’t help the sarcasm. It just slipped out. Spike had been having one long series of bad times after another and he was feeling a mite bit confrontational. It was better than being a big wanker and standing there feeling sorry for himself.

It wasn’t the sarcasm that bothered Buffy, though, it was the belief that he wasn’t telling her everything. “What aren’t you telling me, Spike?”

_A hell of a lot, actually, and I’m not gonna tell you, either. But it’s nothin’ that you need to know, so don’t go the rogue Slayer route and stake a poor bloke just tryin’ to do the right thing here._

Spike hid his thoughts well...of course, the bruising and swelling in his face helped. He shrugged one shoulder laconically. “You don’t go back, our lovely little Sunny D is goin’ to be a demon’s wet dream in about three years. The new look catches on, and it spreads from there. They told me you were the only one who could stop it. They were big into the balance thing. Kept sayin’ you’re the ‘Keeper of the Balance’, whatever the bloody hell that means. But you seem to be the chippy they want. You’re _THE_ Chosen One.”

Buffy grinned but there was no humor in it. “Gotta love the mystical guide spiel. Somehow they always manage to tell you everything you need to know but in such a way that you never understand it until it’s too late to help. I’ve had enough experience with that, I could write a book.”

Suddenly, standing there against the tree, staring at the woman that he loved who completely detested him, fighting against wave after wave of Slayer induced and realm induced pain, Spike realized he just wanted all of this to be over. He couldn’t do it anymore. The atmosphere had quieted when they stopped fighting, but the storm was still gathering. He knew it was coming for him. And this time, he would welcome it. But he had to make sure Buffy got out of here, first.

“Not that I’m not havin’ a real good time here, Slayer, but are you goin’ back or what?”

Buffy, startled at the raggedness in his tone, at the tiredness she heard there, was faced with the question she had wanted to avoid. _Leave it to Spike to cut to the heart of the matter. Always the shortest distance between two points for him._

Buffy glared again briefly and turned away, stalking the backyard like an irritated panther. Her mind was on overload. She really was through, it wasn’t fair that she was being asked to go back. What did the Powers want from her, what did they expect? The first peace she’d known since she was Chosen and they strip it away like they strip away everything else. She didn’t want to go back.

Spike watched her pace through narrowed eyes. He knew her so well, he could just bet what she was thinking. _Probably goin’ on about how unfair her life is. Could tell her about what’s bleedin’ unfair, ya know? Doesn’t want to give up the peace of this place, I bet. Least she got a chance to feel some peace. Got a chance to see her mum again, too. And now she knows, really knows, that when it is her time, she’s got an eternity of good times waitin’ for her. More than I got, ya know? Silly bint. God I’m gonna miss her._

He dropped his head and stared at the ground. He couldn’t watch her any more, it just hurt too much.

She didn’t want to go back. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t turn her back on the duty. It was a part of her. And she could take some of the peace with her. She got to see her mom again, too, that was such a gift. And so much of the burden had been lifted from her shoulders just in coming here. Things in the past, mistakes she’d made were so much clearer and easier to forgive. When she sacrificed herself for Dawn, she had done it with the newfound knowledge that the Slayer was much more than a killer. She was a protector. And now, according to these Oracles Spike mentioned, she was also the ‘Keeper of the Balance’. That didn’t sound too bad.

And she’d get to see Dawnie. Oh God. Dawnie. She would be able to live without the fear of Glory hanging over them all like a thick cloak of terror. Dawn would be free, for the first time really, to live the life of a normal teenager, and grow up with the love of a sister instead of just the memory of one.

Then there was the gang. She couldn’t wait to see their expressions. _Look guys, can’t keep a good Slayer down!_ She wanted to see that. Yeah, sure, they would have to keep fighting the fight, keeping the balance, but that sounds a touch better than taking on a Hell God.

It wasn’t going to be easy. It was never easy. There would be fear and pain and maybe loss, too. But it was where she belonged. It was where she was needed.

And she had originally turned her back on it completely. When Spike first told her, she said no. The world was going to end, the Powers sent a vampire to heaven to get her back because she was the only one who could stop it, and she turned him down. That’s why he...

“Oh God.”

Buffy stopped mid-pace and turned to look at Spike’s lowered head and dejected stance. She saw it, she didn’t know how she’d missed it before. Suddenly she flashed back to when she first saw him at the bottom of the stairs earlier. He had looked up at her with such naked longing and love, but there was something else there, too, and she hadn’t been able to identify it. It was the reason she’d reached out to him and touched his jaw, an unconscious attempt to comfort.

Sorrow and resignation, that’s what it was.

He had known. He had known he would have to make her want to go back. That’s what he was apologizing for. _Shit._

Buffy’s anger and fury at the vampire dissipated and she could feel the Slayer in her receding a little. It left room for her soul to reclaim the lost space until each part was perfectly even. A calm descended and she once again felt the peace of this place seeping into her. Not so much that it would affect her decision to go, but enough that for the first time ever, she was in perfect balance within herself. She’d never had that before. It was an amazing feeling.

It was a feeling of rightness, of destiny, of victory. It was as if a bell chimed one perfect note into the realm and echoed back congratulatory blessings from all the Slayers that had come before and had never known this perfection.

Another memory drifted back into her conscious mind. “You think you know, what’s to come, what you are. You haven’t even begun.” She’d been told that twice, once by a Tara-shaped guide in a dream, and again by Dracula. Since then she’d forgotten it. It came back to her just as the pieces of herself slipped into place, into alignment.

_What’s to come? A lot of changes, that’s for sure. What am I? The Keeper of the Balance. Have I finally begun? Oh yeah, I think I really have._

Buffy smiled widely. It was a good day.

And it was a good day thanks to Spike. He had given this to her, had made it possible. She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that he could have done those awful things to Dawn. He loved her, too. She had known that, always known that.

Before they had gone to take on Glory, he’d sworn to her that he would protect her to the end of the world. Buffy had believed him, still believed him. There was such sincerity in his face that night. Such pride at being asked.

The gang loved Dawn, Buffy knew, but Spike was the only one besides her that loved Dawn in a ‘damn the consequences, no one’s harming a hair on her head’ kind of way. And as she had told Spike earlier, there was no longer any doubt in her mind that he was capable of it.

What had the spirit guide told her in the desert? Right, you only lose love if you reject it. There was something Buffy was _really_ through with. Rejecting love. No more of the big push away Buffy.

_Oh yeah, bleach boy and I are going to have a very interesting conversation when we get back home._

She wished she had time now, but something was telling her it was time to go. First, though, there was the small matter of collecting one very depressed vampire. And giving him the shock of his undead life.

Buffy strolled over to where he still stood with his head down and shoulders bowed. She tilted her head and stared at him for a while before he noticed her presence and felt her gaze on him. He raised his head, his eyes searching and finding hers.

As before on the stairs, her heart ached at the sorrow and pain she saw there, right before he shuttered his expression and blocked out his true feelings. She saw the sardonic glint that was so familiar and so aggravating snap into place and knew, without one shadow of a doubt, that he did it on purpose.

Spike was getting uncomfortable under her close scrutiny. She didn’t say anything, just stared. Finally he couldn’t take the suspense any longer. “Well,” he practically growled in frustration, “have you made up your bleedin’ mind yet, Slayer? Not like I don’t have better things to do with my time, ya know. Heaven is just a touch uncomfortable for a vampire with my stellar personality.”

Buffy winced a little mentally when he called her ‘Slayer’. Before tonight, it had been months since he’d done that. She’d gotten used to the lilt of his accented voice when he said ‘Buffy’. She missed it.

Trying to make her voice as imperious as possible she glared at him. “You lied to me, Spike.”

Spike’s eyes flew wide in affront. “Lied? I did no such thing. I told you everythin’ about the Oracles and why you need to go back. It’s all bloody true, Slayer. I swear.” _Bloody hell. If she didn’t believe him then she was never going to go back. Sod it all._

“Oh, I believe you about that, Spike. Have no fear. And just to assure you, I am going back.”

The relief was amazing, blinding. But...

“Well then, what do you mean I lied?” Spike tended to get suspicious when he couldn’t figure out what Buffy was on about.

“That night in my house, before we went to fight Glory. You lied.”

Okay, it was obvious this place either affected a persons mind, or it affected a vampire’s hearing. Either way, things were not adding up in Spike’s brain. “Sorry, Slayer, you’re going to have to spell it out for the lowly vampire. I’m afraid I’m not followin’.”

Buffy grinned internally, and fought to keep the serious expression on her face. This was going to be fun. “You told me you knew that you’re a monster. You lied. You’re no more a monster than I am, not anymore. You haven’t been for quite some time. You know it, and I know it.”

She couldn’t hold back the smile any longer when Spike’s eyes flew wide and his jaw dropped in stunned disbelief.

And Spike honestly couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth next, it was like his brain had lost all control over his mouth. “Oh yeah? Only a monster would hit you like I did. Threaten Nibblet like I did. You’re wrong, Buffy. I am a monster. I’m a vampire, not a shred of soul anywhere on me. And what’s more, I don’t want one.”

Buffy sighed. Well, at least he went back to ‘ _Buffy_ ’. “I know this is going to come as kind of a shock to you Spike, but quite frankly, it doesn’t really bother me you don’t have a soul. It has come to my attention lately that souls are vastly overrated. As for hitting me, and what you said about Dawn...well, hitting me is easier to forgive, I’ll give you that. But you were doing what you needed to do. There was no warrior left in me, Spike. You needed to bring that back. You are probably the only one that could. That’s why they sent you, wasn’t it?”

So completely flabbergasted, so overwhelmed by each and every syllable that fell from Buffy’s mouth, Spike was back to nodding like a hypnotized idiot.

Staring hard at her, he didn’t understand what his eyes were telling him. First, he had seen the serenity of her soul, then he had witnessed the power of the Slayer. But this, what he was seeing in her now, this was completely different. This was both at the same time. Something completely new.

He finally managed to say, “They never told me, I didn’t lie about that. But, yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Buffy nodded, understanding why he hadn’t told her. If she hadn’t had her epiphany before she realized he was doing it on purpose, she may have lost the Slayer in her forever. She stepped forward and touched his cheek with a fingertip. For a long moment she stared into his eyes, felt the power and emotion in them. They were supposed to be windows to the soul, but he didn’t have one of those. _Whatever his eyes are windows to, it’s a nice place._

Speaking slowly to make sure he understood just how serious she was and how truly she believed, she said, “You would never hurt Dawn. You would die to protect her. You would die to protect me, too. Thank you.”

She thought she saw those eyes of his get suspiciously damp, but she closed hers and leaned in to brush her lips gently against his before she could be sure. And when she did she was hit with something very powerful, very visceral, and very delicious. It shook her.

_Oh yeah. You are going to have one very long talk with the vampire after you get home. He was right about that, too, damn him. Heat. Desire._

Buffy pulled back and stared, wide-eyed, at him. He matched her expression perfectly.

She was the first to be able to form words. “You know Spike, about that other thing you said to me that night. When you said you know I’ll never love you...”

Spike’s face fell, convinced she was going to say something that he may not recover from. He’d been riding along on a tidal wave of perfect emotions. She had given him forgiveness and light. She had kissed him and removed the guilt that had been weighing him down. The way his life had been since entering this realm, it was just about time to be crushed down again.

He didn’t even realize he’d dropped his head to his chest until her small, warm palm was lifting it again.

He saw her compassion - it wasn’t pity, thankfully - and she gave a little mock frown to him.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite not to let a person finish their sentences before you get all gloomy?” She grinned mischievously at him, “I don’t really know what I feel, Spike, not right now anyway. But I know I don’t hate you, and never...well, never is a really long time.”

That was the single most bittersweet thing he could ever imagine hearing. He had been simultaneously granted entry into paradise, and had the door slammed just before he entered the gates.

_Oh, luv. You’re killin’ me. Never is no time at all, pet. Not for me. I tried, Buffy, I did what I could. I went about it the wrong way for a good long while. I made mistakes. And I didn’t realize until coming here, that you were dealin’ with your own demons, all be it the less ‘Grrr and fang’ internal kind. But lemme tell you, luv, you and me? We would have kicked ass and taken names. Nothin’ would have stopped us. It would have been bloody amazin’._

He said nothing, he didn’t let her see the anguish ripping at him, tearing him into pieces and blowing those pieces away on the hot, desert-like wind. He couldn’t tell her.

Instead he forced a gentle smile to his face and took advantage of her openness to brush a strand of hair away from her face. It didn’t really need to be brushed away, but he needed to touch her one more time. He needed to drown in that heat for a second more before he prepared to step off the dance floor that had held him a captive of her for so long.

She smiled at the gentle caress and turned away, playfully teasing and as carefree as a wood sprite in the fall. “Come on, ‘Big Bad’. I want to say good-bye to mom, then we can go. The gang is going to flip! And I can’t wait to see Dawn.”

She was so at peace with herself, she didn’t notice the weight that was dragging down the blonde vampire following slowly behind her. She didn’t notice his haunted expression or the pain in his eyes. She didn’t notice him lift a tense fist to his face to quickly dash away the single tear that fell gently down one chiseled cheek.

_She doesn’t love you, mate. She’ll be fine. Once she gets there the Scoobies will take good care of her, they’ll take care of each other. It’s what those bleedin’ white hats always do. She’ll be happy now. She’s changed. It’s different. She’ll live, and every once in a while maybe she’ll think back on you, on the two of you, and smile a little._

That one wish was all that he had left.


	10. Chapter 10

Spike followed after Buffy, watching her as she hopped up onto the back porch and hurried into the house. As miserable as he was feeling, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard her bellow up the stairs to her mom. _There she is, ladies and gents. There’s the little spitfire we all know and love. Said it before, I’ll say it again...she’s hell on wheels, that one._

The vampire went into the kitchen and picked up his duster from the chair, slipping it on in one smooth move. He had no idea what would happen now. The Oracles hadn’t mentioned how Buffy was going to get out of heaven, just that once she’d agreed to go, she’d be brought to them before heading back to her body shortly after she’d died. They hadn’t even told him how long it would take.

One thing was certain. He intended to be right there beside her until she was ripped out of his proverbial grasp.

Spike raised a hand to his lips, brushing his fingers gently across the skin there, turning his mind from what was coming and basking in the glow of her affection. She didn’t hate him. In fact, she’d let him know that it was no longer completely inconceivable for her to love him...someday. That he wasn’t going to be around to reach that day was of little consequence, it didn’t lessen the importance of the message.

And she had kissed him again, a sweet and gentle kiss. That brought the grand total up to two. To Spike’s way of thinking, two was nowhere near enough. Not to mention, as amazing as it was feeling the softness and warmth of those lips, what he really ached to do at least once was plunder that mouth until she couldn’t see straight. Drive the heat between them to a fevered pitch, to a point where it was so blatantly obvious even she could no longer deny that it exists. Turn her into a panting mass of quivering sexual longing. Give her some idea of what he felt every time he was near her.

He’d never dared try that before, as the dusting that would have surely followed would tend to put a crimp in a vampire’s plans for the rest of his unlife.

Standing in the kitchen, it hit him that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore. For the first time in a very long time, Spike grinned his notoriously cocky grin.

_Come on, mate, what d’you got to lose? She could stake you, sure, but it would be better than sittin’ ‘round here, waitin’ for the master of the house to kick your pale, soulless ass out this bitch of a realm. And then there’s the other...she just might not stake you at all. Least you’d know for sure one way or the other._

He headed down the hallway, a gleam in his eye and confidence adding a swagger to his sauntering gait.

Buffy was standing next to the staircase, talking quietly to Joyce. Spike hung back a bit, waiting in the shadows as mother and daughter embraced tightly and kissed each other good-bye.

She turned to him when she was finished, an innocently happy smile on her face. “Let’s go, Spike. Now’s not the time to be dragging your feet.”

He stepped forward, the light from the living room uncovering his face as he emerged from the darkness. Suddenly Buffy had a hard time drawing a comfortable breath.

 _Oh God_ , she thought. _Look at him. How does he do that?_

Buffy had always known that Spike had an innate sexuality that oozed from every pore of his undead body. She had resented it long enough, she should know. But there were also times, like this one, when he seemed to be able to consciously grab a hold of that part of him and shove it forward for all to tremble at. When the innate sexuality was pushed up several notches and he turned into a pure, walking, talking, testosterone time bomb. She wondered briefly if this was a trait of all vampires or if it was uniquely Spike.

Buffy was betting on the latter and she shivered a little under the intensity of his gaze.

It was odd how she’d never really noticed before just how attractive he was. L _IAR! You have too noticed, you fool. Why else would he be able to disturb you on such an elemental level ever since you first crossed paths with him? You’ve noticed, you just chose to ignore the knowing because of what he is._

Her thoughts scared her. There was truth in them. There was also truth in the fact that he was a vampire. Still a vampire, if maybe no longer a monster. It was something she couldn’t avoid, especially seeing him as badly hurt as he was now. No human could have taken the beating she gave him and still be standing, stalking toward her with that predatory sexual intent blazing out from him and sending her nerve endings into overdrive.

Spike saw her fear and sighed mentally even as he continued his prowl to her side. _She’s afraid of you, mate. But what did you expect? All o’ her sweet little words ‘bout you not being a monster...you’re still a vampire, though. And she’s still the Slayer, no matter what changes this place has brought ‘round. She may treat you like a man, you stupid git, but it’s the fang she sees first. Always that._

And maybe because he knew that he was a vampire, not a man, he didn’t let the fear in her eyes stop him. He wasn’t that noble.

Halting his steps a hand span from her petite frame, he looked down into her large, questioning gaze and smiled pure heat. Damn the bloody consequences, this was his Slayer, his Buffy, and he was going to have her mouth before he was destroyed.

Spike brought his hands up to cradle her face, impressed that she didn’t flinch at his touch despite the fear in her eyes. _She deserves so much more than you, you bloody fool._

Speaking slowly, completely absorbed in her gaze to the exclusion of his surroundings, beyond caring that her mother was standing behind her, watching him, he opened his heart to her one last time and told her what was in it.

“I love you, Buffy. I. Love. You.”

His head swooped down to capture her lips before he could see the reaction to his words in her eyes. He didn’t want to know.

For a split second her mouth was unresponsive to his pressure but he felt the smallest of tremors go through her and felt her hands settle at his waist. Not long after that her mouth opened under his and he was lost.

His left hand moved on its own volition to the back of her head, fisting around a handful of her silky hair. His right traced its way down her back and crushed her body to his, fitting her soft curves to his lean frame in a way that was meant to be. Two interlocking puzzle pieces, it was as if they were made to fit together perfectly despite the wrongness of their opposing natures.

She burned him, scorched him with her heat. It was a blissful feeling and he reveled in it. Fire...blazing fire, spread through him, engulfing him as their tongues danced together - fought, parried, and retreated only to be hunted down to fight some more. It was heaven in hell, it was an oasis in the Sahara, it was food for the starved, drink for the parched, music for the deaf, color for the blind. It was a conflagration and it was beautiful.

And Buffy gave as good as she got.

The soft shiver of fear hadn’t withstood his gravelly voice when he told her he loved her. She wanted him to see it, but he had descended from above too quickly and it startled her. Then she felt his cool lips and his desire for her, and all thoughts of explanations had fled on eagle’s wings. Never had surrender felt so right, been so sweet. Reaped so many rewards.

He possessed her without asking, without caring if she was ready to be possessed. She would let that bother her later. For now, all that mattered was that glorious tongue of his and what it was doing to hers.

Her hands squeezed into his sides and she knew, without needing to ask, that he was as aroused as he’d ever been. And it was wonderful, not needing to hold back on her strength. She couldn’t hurt him; she didn’t need to worry about that. She could be herself - all of herself - and not worry that it would be too much for him to take.

This was Spike. He’d seen her at her worst, at her most vicious, at her lowest as well. He had felt her strength and not only survived, but came back for more time and time again. It was a heady release. It was freedom. It was an inferno of lust and she gave into it.

She felt his arm go around her, pressing her so close to him that she knew he could feel her heartbeat - not that he was paying any attention to it. She wanted to be that close, in that instant she wanted to be closer. His arousal was pressing into her, blanketed by his clothes and separated by hers, and in that split second she yearned to strip away those offending layers and feel his cool body against her warmth.

It was honesty and it was raw and it was something she couldn’t hide from or evade. Not while his tongue was in her mouth, while his hand was wrapped in her hair, while his arm was gripping her so hard she almost couldn’t breathe.

Spike growled low in his throat. He was lost. Reality had been stripped away and he was left trembling on a precipice of pure emotion. He had thought to teach her a lesson? What a fool he was. She had taught him, instead.

Buffy had responded to his desire in ways he had been completely unprepared for and it humbled him. And it brought the realization that it wasn’t just the desire he wanted from her, it was everything.

His mouth gentled its assault. Instead of plundering, it became seeking, questing. Passion was tempered by tenderness, lust by love. What was a war of mouths, he now wanted to be a playground.

He drew back slightly, rested his forehead briefly against hers before moving in again to sip from her lips. He traced his cool tongue over her swollen mouth, teased a response from her. She didn’t disappoint. He thought he could feel her soft smile before she repeated his actions to him, he knew he felt her hot tongue lap at his bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth and caressed it wetly.

Too soon it was over, and Spike raised his head to stare into her eyes. They shared shocked and moved expressions. She was practically wrapped around him, and Buffy felt a twinge of embarrassment at her wanton behavior. It wasn’t like her at all. And yet, on some level, it was. She smiled even as she untangled herself from him, a shy smile that he saw and appreciated.

_Right. Okay then. Ruling is you get to be not staked through the heart. And now there’s nothing hell can do to you that can strip the memory of that kiss away from you, mate. You are one lucky, if buggered, bastard._

Spike stepped back, his swirling emotions causing unnecessary panting, and tried to look busy straightening his clothes while in reality he was studying Buffy for her response.

Buffy didn’t know what to say. The kiss had been amazing but it complicated things. When they got back she would need to deal with whatever was going on between them. She’d handle it much better than she did last time, though. He deserved more than, “The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious.” Especially because she didn’t believe that was quite the case any longer.

The problem was he loved her. Loved her so much, in fact, that when he was asked to suffer heaven, he did. Just to get her back. Sure, he hadn’t been real forthcoming with his reasons for agreeing to do it, but Buffy knew. There was only one thing it could be, after all. The Oracles might have had a higher purpose with all that world saving, but that wasn’t exactly Spike’s gig.

She could no longer deny she felt something for him, but love...well, that was a whole different, continent-sized, scary level altogether. _Remember your history. Love and Buffy. Big un-mixy things._

Accepting love, not rejecting it, was all well and good. Participating in the sadistic spectator sport was another thing entirely. And something about that kiss told Buffy that Spike wouldn’t settle for less anymore. _Okay, time to be denial girl for just a little longer. Let’s get home first, then we’ll deal with the radically sexy vampire._

“So,” Buffy finally said in a shaky voice, “I’m guessing now would be a good time to go home.” She turned to give her mom one more good-bye, only to notice that Joyce wasn’t there. She must have decided it was better to give the two some privacy during that soul-searing lip smack.

“Mom!” she called. “We’re getting ready to go!”

Joyce stepped out of the family room, a magazine in her hand and a knowing smile on her mouth. “I didn’t want to intrude, so I thought I’d hang out in there until you two were...done.”

Spike felt a trickle down his spine at the wording Joyce used. It reinforced his belief that she knew more than what she was telling.

The two Summers women gave each other one more hug, Joyce whispering supportive words and instructions to her daughter about Dawn and what she should do when she got back. The vampire could hear, but tried to ignore the private conversation out of a respect for Joyce.

“Okay, Bleach Boy, time to get home and redefine resurrection.” Buffy’s teasing voice pulled him out of his musings about what Joyce did and didn’t know. She reached over and pulled the front door open.

Suddenly, Spike realized that his time with her was truly over. He didn’t know how he knew; he just did. He knew that as soon as Buffy stepped out of the house she’d be gone. He tried to call out to her, got a hand part way up to hail her, just to have two more minutes with her. Before he got a word past his lips Buffy stepped over the threshold into the lightening day outside.

And disappeared.

 

********************

 

Tara was terrified. She’d seen the merge of Willow’s aura with Spike’s and tried to stop it, tried to pull her back. It should have worked. The connection should have been severed quickly and cleanly.

There was too much magickal power, raw and unrefined, coursing through the link between Willow’s physical body and her mental one out in the nether realm. It couldn’t be budged. And what’s worse, Tara could sense the agony that Willow was in and there was nothing Tara could do about it.

She wasn’t strong enough.

Tara’s mental eyes watched in stunned disbelief as things grew worse. There was a flash of light, and suddenly a pulsing mass of energy was quickly approaching through the dark dimension. Oh Goddess. That was Willow’s essence, her last link to her own reality. There is nothing Tara knew of that could pull and essence from a witch and drag it into the nether realm. She had read stories about some witches, and how they had initiated such a break out of a desire to escape persecution in their lives. It wasn’t suicide, but it was close. They would continue to exist in energy form in the gaps between dimensions, no longer conscious or aware of what they used to be.

At first Tara feared that Willow’s agony was so great that she had made the conscious choice to join those poor sisters of light as an escape. She should have known better. The last feeling Tara got from Willow was complete surprise at seeing her essence join with the mixed auras. She hadn’t initiated it. It had just happened. But what could possibly have caused it?

She didn’t have time to ponder. As soon as Willow’s essence had incorporated with the auras, Tara felt the backlash of power snap down the length of her connecting link, severing it, cutting her loose from all that was left of Willow.

Tara’s mind screamed out at the pain of it before everything went black.

 

********************

 

Xander and Anya had been in the family room, relaxing, watching television, waiting for Willow and Tara to complete their spell when the shrieking howl of wind and Giles’ harsh curse could be heard coming from the living room.

Xander looked at Anya. “I’d be surprised...if this was an alternate reality.”

She smiled wryly at him before leaping up and following him out the door.

Giles was holding Dawn back from charging into the room when Xander showed up at his side.

“What’s going on?” Xander had to yell to be heard over the increasing sound of the wind. When he saw the mini tornado, and made out Willow in its epicenter, his jaw dropped in stunned amazement. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Wow,” said Anya, impressed more than worried. “That’s a powerful spell. Is that an expected result?”

The two men shot her exasperated expressions, not bothering to respond. Giles handed Dawn off to Anya and stepped into the growing destruction of the room. He had to brace himself against the wind.

Giles wanted to get to Tara. She needed to break away from the spell so they could get some answers. He made his way carefully around the room, ducking flying debris and coming dangerously close to being conked over the head with some framed artwork that was lifted off the wall and sent his way.

The room seemed to react to his intrusion, focusing its swirling energy on lifting up anything and everything and sending it hurtling in his direction. He made it to Tara, barely, and was just about to grab her and yank her out of her induced trance when a bolt of electrical energy descended down from the ceiling and slammed into her. She was picked up bodily and thrown hard into Giles.

Xander, Anya, and Dawn watched in horror as the weight of the collision pushed Giles back into the fireplace. They could hear his head hit the stone with a sickly thud even over the roar of the wind. He fell to the ground with Tara sprawled across him. Neither one moved.

“Okay, I guess that means I’m going in,” said Xander, trying to sound confident but looking as scared and confused as he felt.

“Xander, no.” Dawn reached out and grabbed his arm before he headed in. “You saw what happened when Giles went in there, he was attacked purposely. Whatever that is swirling around Willow it doesn’t want us in there. If we go through the dining room, we’ll have a shorter distance to get to them and we might have a better chance of getting them out before we get smooshed.”

Xander studied her for a minute like he’d never seen her before. He couldn’t argue with her logic...not all of it anyway. “Good plan, Dawn, except for the ‘we’ part that includes you. Anya and I will be the we’s that go in, you stay here and warn us if anything looks like it wants to start a personal relationship with our insides, okay?”

Frustrated at being dismissed for being too young to help yet again, Dawn pursed her lips but nodded. Giles was in there, hurt or possibly worse (Dawn didn’t want to think of the worse part) and someone needed to get to him soon. There wasn’t time to argue.

Xander and Anya took off down the hallway to reach the dining room through the kitchen. As soon as they rounded the corner, Dawn turned back to the room. Gnawing on her bottom lip and going with pure gut instinct, she stepped in and headed quickly over to Giles.

She was by his side before the couple had a chance to make it to the other entryway. Feeling quickly for a pulse and being vastly relieved when she felt one, Dawn started in surprise when a very angry and worried Xander called out to her.

“Dawn! Get out of there!”

Dawn looked up and saw he was ready to come charging in after her. “No, Xander. Stay back! Look!” Dawn nodded her head to the room; the energy seemed to have taken no notice of the girl. Or it was purposely, mysteriously leaving her alone. “It’s fine. It doesn’t want to hurt me, but I don’t know - ”

She didn’t get a chance to finish, Xander saw that Dawn wasn’t being targeted and figured it was safe for him to go in. Two steps later he realized his mistake. The large picture window behind the couch imploded with a blast of tinkling glass, and sharp shards were tossed around the room like deadly clear projectiles. Several headed directly toward where the young man stood.

“Xander! NO!!” The call came from both Dawn and Anya, both of them screaming out a warning when they realized what was going to happen.

Xander froze; he couldn’t get himself to move. Next thing he knew he was tackled from behind. He fell hard, Anya yelling at him over the din in the room as he lay spread-eagle underneath her.

“That was not a good idea!” she practically screamed at him. “Last time I checked you were not impervious to lacerations, you know!”

He didn’t have time to defend his actions, the room had decided to empty the bookcase against the wall and they were both suffering the torment of thick, hardback books raining down on them.

“An, now’s not the time,” he managed to grunt out after taking a hard hit on the head. “Let’s get out of here, then you can yell at me all you want.”

“Fine, mister.” She crawled off him, keeping low, and waited for him to get to his hands and knees. “And don’t think I won’t take you up on that as soon as we’re no longer fleeing for our lives!”

Xander rolled his eyes, but followed her out of the room.

As soon as they got out the room quieted again - though quiet may be a bit of a misnomer. The energy in the room was still ignoring Dawn, who had turned her attention back to trying to get Giles to wake up. It took a couple of tense minutes, but she finally saw a telltale flutter of his eyelids when he started to come around. She didn’t want to upset the room again, and she had seen what it did to him before, so she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Giles. Can you hear me? I need you to wake up, Giles. Please wake up. We need you!”

She waited for a response but when he didn’t seem ready to give one she tried again. And again. Finally, on her fourth attempt he managed to moan a little.

“That’s it. Come on, Giles. You need to get up. Lying there is doing no one any good, but I guess I can understand, what with you being an old guy and all how you may not recover as fast as the rest of us.”

That got his attention and his eyes shot open, affronted at the implication he was old. “I will have you know, thank you very much, that I am not OLD!”

He turned his head, wincing at the pain from the wallop he took on the back of his skull, and saw the amusement glittering in her eyes, masking only slightly the very real worry she felt at him being hurt. He realized she was teasing him, goading him into a response, and he managed a weak, self-depreciating smile. “Remind me, won’t you, to give you the lecture on respecting your elders when this is all through.”

Dawn giggled, but rolled her eyes at him for effect. “Right, cuz that always worked so well on Buffy.” Then she got serious. “We need to get you and Tara out of here, but we need to be careful. The energy doesn’t seem to be interested in me, but Xander and Anya can’t come in and I’m afraid if it notices you it’ll go for you again.”

There seemed to be several things wrong with that statement, but Giles couldn’t quite make his mind connect to what they were. In truth, he was still addled by the knock on the head. It was somewhat humiliating, relying on a soon-to-be fifteen year old to get him to safety, but Giles was left with little choice.

“Could you do me a favor, Dawn, and help me move Tara off of my chest. It’s a bit hard to breathe.”

They managed to get Tara shifted, and Dawn told Giles what she thought they could do to get them all out safely.

“If you can pull Tara out, I’ll stand guard, make sure nothing comes at you while you go. Try to stay low, though. Crawling is best.”

It was Giles’ turn to roll his eyes and he pursed his lips in the bargain. “Stay low, she says. Right. We’ll just have to do that.”

Dawn stood and turned her attention to the room, looking for any signs that might indicate another attack. She heard Giles moving behind her and finally caught Tara’s prone body moving out of her line of vision as Giles pulled her to safety. The energy in the room did respond, but every time it tried to toss something Giles’ way Dawn would step into the line of fire (squeezing her eyes shut each time just in case she’d been wrong) and the objects would drop harmlessly to the ground.

There was no longer any doubt in the matter, the energy was consciously avoiding causing any injury to Dawn.

Giles had been watching as he moved on his knees, shuffling backwards and pulling Tara along while he went. It didn’t make any kind of rational sense. Why would the energy target everyone but Dawn? No answer was forthcoming, but he did manage to get Tara and himself to safety.

Dawn backed out of the room and shut the sliding wooden doors behind her, closing out some of the noise. When she turned around, there were three very confused adults staring at her in trepidation and curiosity.

“What?”

 

********************

 

She was naught but a speck of gravel at the bottom of Niagara Falls, tossed and flipped and rolled by the torrent of emotions so immense that any attempt to separate them out, dissect them, would be as futile as turning the waters of the falls back and making it flow upwards.

She was a pawn, an actor in his play, and the smallest shred of Willow’s individuality - the only shred left - wailed for the creature that could not do it himself. She was carried along on the eddy of his aura trail, her senses - his senses - screaming out shrieks of diamond hard facts. It was almost like watching a movie while feeling everything the actors feel - if the movie was about nothing more than pain, death, and agony.

Loss, she’d been able to pick up on the loss. Probably because it permeated every other emotion and was by far the strongest. Heartbreaking, heart wrenching loss. The loss of a love, the loss of a life, the loss of responsibilities, the loss of self. Every imaginable type of loss was crippling him - her - along the way. And it was so dark, what was left of Willow’s mind couldn’t understand why it was so dark.

And then it wasn’t, and the hatred and rage - a vicious, feral rage - sliced into her. She wanted to kill, to tear apart flesh with her fangs. And the red demon in front of her...no, wait...blue demon in front of her was the target of all of that rage. And still there was loss, choking and suffocating loss. It fueled the fury, volcanic in its ferocity.

But the trail continued. Confusion, snippets of human looking creatures with really bad skin - no, painted? - And what was that...hope? Stripped away before it could take hold. Clarity - there was a moment of clarity - she felt that. Bitter despair swallowed that and hopelessness soon followed. She wished she could hear...wished she could really see more than snippets through the haze his emotions cast. It was all so blurry.

Oh God. No! Anguish, gaping, bleeding anguish and again rage. Something they said - those colored creatures - sent a dagger of pure horror and disgust through her heart and she wanted to shove their words, whatever they had been, back down their throats. And rip out their lungs while she did it so they could never do it again.

Still the loss was there, and it haunted her - a lonely wolf’s howl on a moonlit night, a banshee wail across the Scottish moor, the baying of hellhounds out for blood.

Boredom for a brief second, confusion too, disbelief, crazed hysteria tinged with resignation and sorrow so remarkably poignant it would make the gods weep. But no tears were shed, he had at some point accepted his loss - only to have that acceptance torn from him - her - and swallowed whole by a gapping maw of reality. She saw what it was, it was the only clear picture she’d seen so far, and it was hellish. She didn’t understand but felt that he did, fury fell away to misery borne out of a new type of responsibility.

Willow didn’t understand, she just felt, she was nothing but his feelings. Terror - oh, God the terror - and vile contempt for these creatures of destruction and desolation.

She sunk deeper into the pit, lost a little more self as the journey continued. Rage, hatred, anger, fear, loss, disillusionment, sorrow, anguish, torment, responsibility. Gasping, grasping for any escape from the swell.

And then she arrived. Where it should have begun. A lifted veil, a hidey-hole of cursed treasure, a maze and a Minataur. The realm. Seen through his eyes and felt through his feelings it was finally clear. Those creatures were punishing him, had to be. Why he was so accepting of it was only for his mind to know, his emotions shed little light on reason. A barren wasteland of toxic spewage, noxious nastiness, and craggy, unforgiving landscape. Knowing fear and torture lay beyond and willing to step in.

Willow’s mind, what was left of it, saw what Spike had seen just before the walls closed and the trail ended and was horrified in her own right.

It was more than hellish. It was hell.


	11. Chapter 11

Spike stood for long minutes and stared at the space where Buffy last stood. It was over, all of it, and the emptiness he was feeling left no room for anything else. He was a dead shell, a husk of a monster who had reached the end of a journey only to find nothing but a gray blankness humming in his chest. He couldn’t even find it within himself to grieve.

All of his emotions had been used up. Spent on a responsibility to a place that he would never see again, spent on a girl he had loved too deeply to forget. Now that she was gone, returned to the world in which she belonged, all he could do was stare at the place of her passing.

When Spike had seen Buffy’s body lying broken and dead in the construction site after the fight with Glory he had been ripped apart. It had been the most painful experience in his existence. He grieved for her then, and for Dawn, and for himself too. He had crumbled, sobbing out his anguish because he had lost the one person that shed light on his unlife and he had thought he lost the sister he had sworn to protect as well.

It wasn’t until the death of one that he realized just how much he loved the other. A brotherly, protective love the likes of which he’d never known before.

Then he’d been drawn into this Shakespearean tragedy and had focused on the joy of seeing the fallen one again to survive. And it had been joyful, and twistingly painful, and grotesquely macabre. He’d forgotten, in the interim, that there would be an ‘after’. He’d allowed himself to forget - to completely disregard - that he had willingly embraced a path that would repeat in agonizing detail the most painful event of his life. He’d lost Buffy twice.

You would think that he’d feel something at the new loss but he was completely numb to everything but the gray hum vibrating through the walls of his dead chest. Spike couldn’t even find it within himself to care that he had just punched his ticket for the next outbound train from heaven, and the destination was a lot less pleasant than Buffy’s had been.

He found himself standing at the open doorway, staring up at the blood-red sky, not even aware that he’d stepped forward. Oddly fascinated at what he saw, a sight that should strike fear in his heart but didn’t, he watched in grim wonder as the sickly yellow storm clouds massed on the horizon. Instead of rolling in from one direction, however, he could see them bubbling and frothing, advancing from every side. He was surrounded and he knew it and he didn’t care.

There would be no escape and he just had nothing left inside him to care.

The weight of the eyes that had been weighing him for so long were gone. They had blinked off as soon as Buffy stepped through the door. It was a release from the physical torment, but so what? What difference would a little searing agony make in the grand scheme of things? Spike felt almost robbed of the sensation, cheated from even that much pain because he _wanted_ pain, he wanted to feel something, anything, and couldn’t. He would gladly be the masochistic pincushion for a little while longer just to be able to have something to feel. He felt he owed her that much.

“You didn’t tell her you weren’t going back.”

The voice that came from behind him was a surprise and he jumped slightly at the foreign sound. He had forgotten he wasn’t alone.

Spike sensed Joyce move closer, knew she was standing right behind him, close enough to touch. He might have sighed at the interruption of his thoughts if he cared. It wasn’t a question, but he had to say something. There was only resignation in his voice as he responded.

“No.”

“May I ask why?”

He heard the curiosity in her voice. And the gentle concern that had always been there for the demon he was, even before he’d done anything remotely deserving of it.

“No.”

Spike winced slightly at the abruptness in his tone. This was Joyce, Buffy’s mum. She didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She didn’t deserve to be punished with his apathy - that was his burden to bear. Without turning away from the growing maelstrom in the sky, he tried to put into words what were now only memories of emotion.

“Have you ever loved somethin’ so much that it consumed you? Burned you? Ate you alive while you stood in horror, unable to stop it and knowin’ - even if you could stop it - you wouldn’t?”

Spike’s words shook under the pressure of such bleak honesty. He wanted to - needed to - purge himself of the truth about himself. A truth that he would have been at a loss to explain to anyone except this one woman, this kind soul behind him. She was probably the only person that would listen and not judge, not be tainted by the memories of what he was and how truly absurd his feelings had been for a vampire. It was a truth he had hidden for too long. Hidden because he didn’t understand it and it frightened him.

“Have you ever loved somethin’, someone, so intensely that the power of it strips away everythin’ you are, changes you utterly, fills you up and spits you out a different person, a better person than you ever thought you could be, than you ever wanted to be? A little cleaner, a little more whole.”

He had told Buffy...told her, that was such a weak euphemism...he had proclaimed in a loud voice more than once that vampires were capable of loving without a soul. It was true, they could. But he hadn’t wanted to admit that the kind of love that vampires felt, that any creature without a soul felt, was really just a pale comparison to the emotions humans were capable of. Basically because the absence of a soul had a tendency to foster selfishness, and that took up too much space for blinding love to take hold.

“Have you ever had love drag you kickin’ and screamin’ down a path that is so far off from what you’re very nature demands you follow, that you wake up one day and find yourself taking on heaven itself to right wrongs that you had no hand in creatin’, will reap no benefit in rightin’, just because of the effect that love has on you?”

He hadn’t wanted to explain because he didn’t know how to even try to convince Buffy that he was different. Since meeting the other he’d been different. He never knew why, but it was against everything that was in him to care much for the whys. Spike just accepted it, knowing he could never tell her because she would never believe it without either proof or a damn good reason. He had neither to offer. Where Spike accepted, Buffy questioned - that was her nature. She denied anything that smacked of absurdity without a logical explanation and he couldn’t give her one. What would he say?

“A love so vital, that has become such a part of you, that you would do anything...kill - or not kill as the case may be - even die to ensure it survives. That love itself survives.”

And that was the horrible truth he had kept hidden from everyone, even himself at times. The love he felt was a pure, selfless love. It was a love he shouldn’t be able to feel. He was a monster; that kind of love was supposed to be denied to him. It hadn’t started out that way - that was true enough - but that’s how it ended up. Spike didn’t know why, didn’t care how, but it had dictated his actions for too long to be ignored further. That’s why he never told Buffy he wouldn’t be going back. She wouldn’t have understood. She wouldn’t have believed.

“Oh, Spike,” Joyce whispered, a sad and understanding look on her face. “You loved her that much?”

Spike chuckled with a complete absence of amusement. “Not her.”

He turned away from the doorway, twisting his head slightly to meet Joyce’s eyes, and knew she was weighing him just as the watching eyes in this realm had weighed him. The ugly truth needed to be finished. Because in the end, when the play had run its course, he realized it was no longer just about one anymore.

“Not her, mum. Them. Both of them. Sisters. Taken together, apart, makes no matter to my dead heart. It’s both of them, each of them.” Spike laughed wryly at how little sense he was making, and how big an ass he must seem.

“Apparently,” he said sardonically, “I have a weakness for the Summers ladies. Must be the genes - could be the jeans, too, though.”

Joyce reached a hand out and brushed it gently down his gaunt cheek. There were tears in her eyes and she gave him a watery smile. Spike was floored when she leaned forward and brushed a very motherly kiss to his forehead.

A shock wave of searing emotion poured over him, hitting Spike like an avalanche. He staggered a little at the weight of it. Pain, blinding and freezing pain lodged like an arrow in his chest and spilled through him. He gasped at the agony, the clutching sorrow, the fear and self-doubt, the loss - oh God, the loss! A sob was wrenched painfully from his chest and he doubled over, tears falling freely as he grabbed at his stomach, his chest. He was a blade of grass in a tornado of feeling, swept away, spinning crazily - out of control and unable to speak through the horror of it all.

He’d never been more grateful for any gift.

Joyce had given it all back to him, brought his emotions back to him with her gentle kiss. He could finally grieve for everything he had been through and everything she had yet to go through. He could weep for Dawn, his sweet little Nibblet, and the anguish of not getting to say good-bye. He bayed at the bloody sky for Buffy, for what could have been, what should never have been able to be but was. The undiluted love of an eternity.

It took minutes, a lot of them, but the swell finally receded enough for Spike to gain control again. He noticed he was sitting on the floor in the doorway, knees drawn up to his chest and cheeks wet with salty tears. He used clenched fists to wipe them away and forced air into his dead lungs for balance.

Spike’s eyes searched out Joyce’s. There was only tenderness and acceptance in them and it soothed him as he said, “Thank you.”

She knew what he was thanking her for and she smiled slightly and lowered her head a bit in a slow nod.

He dragged himself to his feet and composed himself, staring out at the fast approaching storm while he straightened his duster around him. Watching him, Joyce smiled. It was almost as if he was cloaking himself with Spikeness - and that was too amusing, given the circumstances.

“You could have told her,” she finally said. “At least let her know.”

Spike smiled, actually smiled at the mothering instinct of the woman he considered more than a friend.

_Just gonna keep draggin’ all your dirty laundry out there, mate. Wants to hear it all, she does. If you had a bleedin’ soul this would be you barin’ it. ‘Course you had one of those, like as not you wouldn’t be in this bloody corner. Right then, get on with it. Not much left to lose, is there?_

He didn’t turn from the sky.

“There comes a time, Joyce, when you want something so badly, need something so desperately that when you get your chance to see if you just might be lucky enough to get it, you step back. Shy away from the knowin’. The need is so huge that even the thought of it not being there, even if you get what you want, is too terrifying to risk giving it up. Because what would you have left?”

“Peace.”

Spike practically barked in amusement. “Yeah. Right. Peace. You want to know what that need of mine is? That desperate desire? Just to know that it mattered. That I mattered. That what I did in comin’ here mattered to her. How’s that for selfish? The only thing I have left is that need. The need to know that maybe I finally got it right. I don’t mind being bad, mum, hell it’s too much bloody fun. But I’d like to know if what I did was enough - enough to let her see the man first, instead of the fang.”

“So, why didn’t you?”

“Because if it wasn’t enough, if the sacrifice wouldn’t have mattered to her, I’d lose everything. Even the dream of the possibility. And then there’s the other. The tragic comedy that’s the other. What if it was enough, what then? Well, that would be worse, wouldn’t it? Because my bleedin’ gift had already been given. Her life for mine. Nothin’ to do ‘bout that. Game over, top scores for Spike. And if it mattered, she’d hurt, and I don’t want to be responsible for any more of her pain.”

Joyce stared with compassion at the back of the man who cared more about her daughter’s pain then his own anguish. _What monster is this_ , she thought, _that could give so much for so little?_

The wind picked up, drawing his duster back to flap against the open door. Spike knew it was time. He couldn’t hide in here forever, and he didn’t know if the realm would take pity on the house in its zeal to remove him from its purview. Lightning cracked its blinding fury just beyond the porch and Spike turned and gave a cocky smile to Joyce.

“That would be my chariot, I believe. Best be gettin’ out of here so’s not to disturb your fine furnishin’s. It’s been quite a ride, though, got to say.”

He gave in to his impulses and stepped over to Joyce, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly to him. She was surprised but flattered. He pulled back a bit and met her eyes.

“When you see them again, tell ‘em...tell ‘em I’d do it again. All of it. I don’t regret any of it. It was a damn good time they gave me. Tell ‘em I said thanks.”

Spike swung out of Joyce’s arms, the duster billowing out behind him as he strode out the door. He leapt off the top step and landed gracefully, turning briefly to flash a dashing, arrogant grin at her. There was confidence in his wide legged stance, and he felt the heady feeling of that old confrontational side of himself. Just to be difficult, he slapped his game face on. If the realm was going to destroy him, better it be well known just who and what it was destroying.

He yelled into the rising wind. “Alright, you sod, here I am! One Spike-sized morsel for you to do with what you will. Let’s get on with it then, shall we? ‘Cuz I’m startin’ to get bloody bored with all this hype. Start the bleedin’ show already!”

The ground trembled beneath him and he felt a pulling sensation, the landscape around him spun and blurred in front of his eyes. An odd feeling of vertigo overwhelmed him before everything went dark.

The vampire disappeared from the yard in front of the Summers’ house in heaven.

 

********************

 

Giles and Xander had carried the unconscious Tara through the dining room and down the hall to the family room. Anya grabbed a damp cloth and some first aid for Giles’ head out of the bathroom and Dawn stopped to close the doors to both rooms, cutting the sound considerably and preventing any potential damage from escaping into the rest of the house.

“Ow.” Giles winced in pain as Anya pressed hard - again - on the growing lump on the back of his head. “Bloody hell, Anya. It’s a head wound, not a spot on the counter that needs to be rubbed clean. Do you think you could go a little easier please?”

Anya sighed and tried to go easier, “Big baby.”

Giles spun around and glared at the girl. “I heard that!” He looked over at Dawn, who was wiping Tara’s forehead with the damp cloth. “Dawn, would you please come here and take over? I’m afraid I might not survive Anya the Hun’s idea of nursing.”

Anya’s, “HEY!” was drowned out by the choked laughter from Xander and Dawn. Dawn handed off the cloth to Anya as she stormed by in a huff.

Xander looked over at Giles, a question in his eyes, “Okay, Giles, you want to fill us in on the Dorothy and Toto gig you got going on in the living room? ‘Cuz I’m thinking...mini tornado? Not the best way to redecorate.”

“I’m afraid I really have no idea. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I’m assuming that it has something to do with the merging spell, but as for specifics...well, I was hoping Tara would be of some help. How is she?”

Anya looked down at the witch, “She appears to still be unconscious, but her heartbeat is good and she’s not as pale as she was at first. It’s very doubtful she’ll die.”

Giving Anya little more than a quick grimace at her less than tactful description, Giles said, “I believe Willow may have been overwhelmed by the merging, what we’re seeing may be a manifestation of the emotions she’s suffering. Her...power...her magicks, they may be reacting to it in some way. It’s Willow, but – ”

“Not...Willow.” Tara’s soft voice broke in, interrupting the Watcher. Giles got out of his chair and Dawn followed him over to stare down tenderly at the frazzled and tired looking - but thankfully conscious - girl.

Tara hadn’t opened her eyes, but she had heard the conversation going on over her head and needed to tell them. She felt so strange. Drained and exhausted. “Not Willow,” she said again, stronger this time.

“Tara,” Giles coaxed calmly, “can you tell us what happened? Can you tell us about the energy vortex in the living room?”

Lifting a lead-filled arm to shield her eyes from the brightness in the room, Tara tried to peek at her hovering friends. She gave Dawn a grateful smile when she quickly moved to switch off the lamp closest to her. Struggling up into a sitting position with Xander’s help she pressed the heel of her hand to her aching head.

“The spell...something went wrong.”

“Kind of the master of understatement there, Tara.” Xander felt Dawn’s sharp elbow poke him in the side while he was being pinned by Giles disapproving glare. He shrugged self-consciously. “Don’t mind me, just doin’ that whole talking with my mind blank thing again. Continue.”

“Everything was fine at first, Willow and I made it to the nether realm - just like always. Her aura separated and went across. I had established the link, we were connected. I think she tried to direct her aura down the path, but it didn’t want to move. Then I saw it turn and head to the start of Spike’s trail. It merged with his aura before Willow could stop it. I felt her fear. She was so scared. I-I t-tried to p-pull her out. T-tried to use the l-link. There was too much power, then her essence got separated from her body and sucked in, too. It joined the auras. That’s when the power back lashed on me and the next thing I know I’m here.”

She raised her large sad eyes to Giles’ stunned ones as the implications of her words sunk in. “It’s not Willow in there, Giles, Willow’s gone.”

Xander didn’t understand. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t understand what Tara was saying. “Wait. What do you mean, gone? She’s in there. Sure, she’s surrounded by a spinning wall of drafty badness, but she’s not gone.”

Giles spoke to Xander in a serious tone without breaking Tara’s gaze. “There are three things that connect a person to their body, their mind, their essence - some call it a soul - and their aura. What Tara means is that all three of those things in Willow are now in the nether realm and there is no longer anything connecting her to her body. For all intents and purposes, Willow is gone.”

It was a while before anyone spoke, the gravity of the situation hanging like a thick cloud of smoke around all of them.

“So,” Dawn said, frightened at everyone’s expressions but in no way ready just to give up so easily, “how do we get her back?”

“I’m not sure we can at this moment, Dawn,” Giles explained reluctantly. “One of us, Tara presumably as she is the only one of us with formal Wicca training, will need to go into the room and try to link with Willow again. The problem is that we can’t get in there. The energy - probably the magickal power that Willow commands which is currently without focus - is defending itself against intrusion.”

“Not against me.”

Giles realized what she was offering and looked at her, horror at the suggestion plain on his face. “No Dawn. You mustn’t. We don’t even know why you weren’t targeted, why Willow’s magick avoided harming you. There’s no way to be sure it wouldn’t change its mind if you were in there alone. And you know nothing about the steps that would need to be taken to get her back. I refuse to risk losing you - or anyone else. We need to do more research - “

“Research?” Dawn crossed her hands over her chest and stared hard at him. “Fine. You do research while the energy drains Willow until she dies. ‘Cuz that’s what’s happening, right? The energy in that room is feeding off of her. Using her while she can’t do anything to stop it.”

The Watcher stared down at the ground, took off his glasses with a tired hand and nodded. “Yes. That’s what is probably happening.”

Dawn’s mind spun as she tried to figure out what to do. Suddenly she was hit with an idea and she blurted out excitedly the first thing that popped into her head. “Spike!”

Four glum adults stared blankly at the smiling girl. She sighed. _Man, adults never follow the logic bit, ya know?_

“Giles, if Willow’s gone, and there’s no connection anymore between her and her body, then something or someone else has to be responsible for the personalized attacks that you all got when you entered the room, right? No control equals random fire. But it wasn’t random. You all saw it. It left me completely alone, even seemed to be protecting me from getting hurt when you were getting Tara out. It wanted to get to you, but it didn’t want to risk hurting me. That strike anyone else but me as a tad bit non-coincidental?”

Xander glanced at Giles, who was frowning in concentration and didn’t look ready to jump in with any of his pointed questions. That left Xander to ask some of his own. “I’m following so far...but what does the disappeared Evil Dead have to do with any of that?”

Dawn pinned him with a look but didn’t have time to reprimand him for his continued gibes on the vampire. “I’m saying that Willow might be gone, but there’s something - some connection - left. Something we don’t know about. And I think that something is Spike. Think about it. It’s got to be something, and it’s not Willow or it wouldn’t have targeted any of you. Or if it had, it would have had no reason to leave me alone. Spike is the only other answer. When Willow merged with his aura, and her essence came out, something must have slid back along the flow - something of Spike, a memory of emotion, whatever. Spike would never hurt me. Not even subconsciously. But if he’s in protection mode, he may view all of you as a threat. Especially if he knew...”

Dawn didn’t want to bring up the memory of the night her sister died, but she had to make them all understand what Spike’s mindset had been the night he was taken. Because she knew, if Willow connected with Spike’s trail at the beginning instead of the end, then the past month would be as if it never happened for him.

“Especially if he knew you were all ready to kill me the night we fought Glory.”

No one spoke. None of them could look at her. They understood what she was saying and it made sense. So much time had passed, Spike had been gone for so long, that the memory of his disappearance seemed to have separated itself from the events leading up to it. Especially seeing as though there was no known connection between what happened with Glory and what happened to Spike. But Dawn was right, if anything of Spike slipped back along the connecting stream between Willow and the nether realm, it would be the earliest memories and emotions from the time right after he was taken. The night Buffy died and the night he tried everything he could to save Dawn. It explained quite a lot of the reactions of the energy vortex.

Giles’ mind was spinning, and not just because of that nasty bump on his head. Dawn was really rather intelligent. She saw things differently than the rest of them; she was very bright and willing to add her opinions to the group. It could be disconcerting, when one realized just how much she paid attention to - just how much she saw. It wasn’t normal for a girl of her age to be so not self-involved. And it reminded him so much of Buffy in Slayer mode he almost couldn’t speak. Except Buffy had her normal teen mode, too. Dawn was like this all the time. It was positively scary.

“Alright,” he said slowly, trying to make his mind form around a plan, “so we’re going on the assumption that the energy vortex is being controlled in some unconscious way by the emotions and memories that would be contained in Spike’s aura trail at the moment of his capture. That would lead me to believe that some connection - however slight - still exists between Willow and her body. If we can get in there, one of us should be able to follow that link just by coming in contact with Willow. Dawn, I know you think it should be you - but someone will need to work to separate the aura’s and bring Willow back into herself so that she can gain control of her power and drag herself back. I still believe Tara would be the best choice. And there’s one other thing, Dawn. Something I hesitate to bring up, but it must be said. You are The Key. Energy created for opening dimensional doors. I have no idea what would happen - if anything did - if you went into another realm.”

Dawn knew that was coming and didn’t say anything. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, but seeing as though no one could look her in the face, hiding them wasn’t going to be a problem. They didn’t think she could do it. What’s more, they were afraid to try because of what was inside her. But this was not a bloodletting ritual and she was not just a key. She was human. She was made from her sister. Some part of her knew - really knew - that being The Key was no longer an issue. It was not something to be afraid of. It just didn’t matter anymore.

And they also didn’t think she was strong enough to be able to get Willow to separate a bit from Spike’s aura. She thought they were probably right about that. But she also believed something else that they hadn’t taken into consideration. She didn’t need to.

Willow didn’t need to be separated from Spike’s aura if Spike’s aura could be persuaded to let go of Willow a little bit. And there was nothing Dawn believed more than she was the only person that could get that done. If Willow could pull away from the lessened draw from Spike, she could get that control back that Giles mentioned and could get both of them out of there.

And hopefully Willow had made it to the end of Spike’s trail and seen where he went because nothing that had happened so far could dissuade Dawn from giving up on her quest to get Spike back. Nothing ever could.

The group still hadn’t looked at her, they were talking amongst themselves. No one noticed the determined glint in her eyes or the way she squared her shoulders and raised her chin a little in defiance of the dictates set down by Giles. Dictates she had no intention of following.

Backing up from the group slowly, making sure no one noticed her withdrawal, Dawn edged to the back of the room. She was halfway to the door before Xander looked up, surprised, and met her steady gaze.

Dawn, not caring what he was going to say, turned quickly and ran to the door, throwing it open and crossing the hall in four fast steps.

“Dawn, NO!!” Xander’s frantic call got everyone’s attention and they rushed after the fleeing girl.

They weren’t fast enough. Dawn had flung open the doors to the living room and got well inside before they had a chance to catch her. Xander tried to run after her, but the energy in the room picked him up and tossed him back out as if he weighed no more than a bag of flour.

Dawn didn’t even look back before she entered the vortex spinning tightly around Willow’s body. She took a deep breath, knelt down next to her, and reached out her hand.

Grabbing Willow’s clenched fist with her own, Dawn felt the strange pull at her mind and she gave herself over to it. _I’m coming in, Spike. Show me where Willow is._

It was her last conscious thought on this side before her mind was separated from her body and drawn into the nether realm.


	12. Chapter 12

She hadn’t felt a thing. It had been just that fast. One minute Buffy was walking through her front door, stepping onto the porch, the next she was standing in an echo chamber of a room - black stone under her feet and marble walls and pillars around her.

Disoriented at the sudden shift of locales if not at the shift itself, Buffy spun around quickly, checking out her surroundings. Like a thick velvet cloak settling comfortably around her shoulders, the Slayer came forth, wrapping around and through her body with soothing warmth, altering her stance and increasing her senses to their maximum limits. It felt different somehow, this gathering of her power, but Buffy was too concerned with trying to figure out what the hell just happened to spend time trying to identify the difference.

That’s when she noticed her clothing had changed. Gone were the shorts and halter-top she’d been wearing in the other realm, replaced by a pair of gray, loose-fitting pants and a white, long-sleeved and high-collared light sweater. It was a familiar outfit. It was the outfit she wore the night she fought Glory. The night she died.

_O-kay. No time for an attack of the wiggins, Buffy. Sure, you’ve just been set down God knows where and had a nice little fashion retrofitting as a bonus, but still. Not close to as weird as you’ve seen it get. No big._

She worked her way around one of the ceiling-high marble pillars and caught sight of a staircase in the back of the room leading up to a domed archway. A domed archway that appeared to lead nowhere. She looked around nervously and realized there wasn’t a single door or window in the room. She got in, but she had no clue how to get out.

Something about the place tugged at her mind, something familiar about the architecture and décor. What was it?

Shrugging the feeling away, she carefully started to investigate the room. There had to be a way out of there, some hidden door or passageway. She just needed to find it.

“Welcome, Slayer.”

The feminine voice spun Buffy around and her eyes searched wildly for the person responsible for the hail. She found them. Standing at the top of the staircase, a place that had been empty not more than a minute earlier, were two...beings. Coiffed and dressed in full Roman regalia from their hairstyles to their togas to their sandaled feet were a man and a woman...of sorts…who appeared to be having some serious skin issues. They were green. And gold.

That’s when it hit her. Oracles. These were the Oracles. The ancient Rome motif, the skin color. Spike had told her, but at the time she’d been too angry and disgusted with him to pay close attention to the details. These were the entities that sent Spike into heaven to get her.

_Oh man, I am so gonna stake that vampire. He could have mentioned that the trip back wasn’t going to be a direct flight for the one of us that’s me. A head’s up about the nifty layover should have been considered need to know information._

As irritated as she was that Spike had been less than completely forthcoming about this neat little addendum to the ‘coming back from the dead’ plan, her Slayer sense relaxed. It was as if, of its own volition, the velvet cloak that was her power gently pulled itself back from her, sliding away and rolling up until it was truly needed. Again, it was a...different feeling, not uncomfortable, but Buffy didn’t take the time to question it.

If these were the creatures responsible for bringing her back it was doubtful they intended her any harm. Her body lost that battle-ready look and she walked to the bottom of the stairs, peering up at them with unveiled curiosity.

 _“Sister, do you see her?”_ The brother had studied the switch from Slayer mode to full Buffy and he was at a loss. This was unexpected to say the least.

His sister was equally surprised at what she was picking up, not only from the change, but from the girl’s thoughts as well. Her mind speech was hushed in wonder. _“I see her, brother. She is evolved. The realm...it changed her. This is no longer just the Slayer in front of us. She truly is The Chosen One. The Keeper of the Balance.”_

There was no arguing with what they had both seen. Buffy had changed. She was, in fact, balanced. For the first time in over a millennium, a Slayer had reached the pinnacle of her abilities. And much sooner than they had anticipated, for it had been foreseen that this girl, this Chosen One would reach that lofty goal. That was why it was necessary to bring her back. Her journey had not yet begun before she died, not truly, and now it had. Much sooner than expected.

 _“But what of the other trials?”_ The brother reached out his mind and questioned his sister. _“This change was to be seen much later in her development.”_

He felt the mental shrug his sister gave him. _“The events will still occur, but they will no longer be trials. They will evolve as she has. And brother,_ ” the mental brush took on an amused edge, _“you said it yourself. She has always been unpredictable. The realm is unknown to us, beyond our purview. Not even the Powers could tell us what affect a return would have on an individual. Her unpredictability combined with the realm itself has produced an unexpected but promising result.”_

The brother heard an almost avaricious lilt in his sister’s mental voice and felt a twinge of something akin to trepidation. He buried it deeply to prevent her from picking up on it.

Of the two of them, the brother had always been more sympathetic to an individual’s plight. He was more gregarious by nature, not as affected by duty and responsibility as the powerful entity next to him. And he sincerely hoped that what he picked up on was not an indication that his sister had gotten the idea to send all future Slayers into the realm this Slayer had just escaped from as a test. This Slayer was unique. It would not bode well for the future of the universe if his sister was under the mistaken impression that what one could do, they all could do.

When he turned his attention back to the girl at the bottom of the stairs he was a little embarrassed to find that she was no longer at the bottom of the stairs. In fact, she’d climbed said stairs and was standing right in front of him.

“Hi there,” Buffy said. “Remember me? Chosen One? Recently deceased? I was just wondering if you and your friend were going to stand there for much longer, doing...whatever it was you were doing that wasn’t sending me home. Not that I’m trying to be impatient girl, here.”

Buffy grinned at the slightly surprised expression on the male’s face. She really felt quite good, now that she knew where she was. “Okay, so maybe I am. What can I say? Got people to see and balance to keep. And I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here to admire the wicked impressive job the tattoo artist did on both of you, so if we could get on with this, I’d appreciate it.”

 _“Impertinent little thing, isn’t she?”_ The brother winced slightly at the sharp tone in his sister’s mental voice. He ignored her.

“Of course,” he said instead to Buffy, who was standing with her hands at her hips, looking at them a touch less than patiently. “We apologize. You have been brought here in preparation of the return to your dimension.”

“It was also necessary,” the sister added, “as we were unable to remove you ourselves from the realm you just left. Now that you are here, however, we can send you the rest of the way.”

“You will be returned to your body at a time shortly following your fall from the tower.” The brother smiled slightly as Buffy’s head swung back and forth between him and his sister as they spoke.

The sister finished with, “And the Powers will restore you.”

Buffy nodded, in seeming agreement with the plan. Anything that got her back to her sister and friends was to be placed squarely in the ‘let’s do it, then’ category.

“Well,” she said, “that explains the Jetson’s job you did on my clothes, right? Can’t go back looking all out of place...or time...or whatever.”

She noticed that the pair was staring at her like she’d suddenly started speaking Latin or something and realized they didn’t get the reference. “Jetson’s...you know...cartoon? Presto-chango on the wardrobe deal? They - ”

She broke off, they just weren’t getting it. “You know what? Never mind. So not important. I’m ready whenever you are.”

The sister raised one delicately arched brow and nodded at her. And then, just because it had irritated her, she said, “We are not tattooed, actually. This is our natural coloring. And we are not just ‘friends’. We are siblings, twins.”

Buffy grinned sheepishly and shrugged a little. “Sorry. No offense.”

She looked at the pair expectantly, and the sister closed her eyes and pressed her palms together to focus her energy. Just as she was about to send the girl to her own realm, the sister heard Buffy call out to her.

“Wait!”

The Oracle sighed and opened her eyes slowly to stare at the Slayer. The brother caught several of the mildly unflattering comments that slid through his sister’s mind and had to stop himself from grinning. Both the Slayer and the vampire had stretched the limits of his sister’s patience to no end, and he was enough of a brother to be more than just a bit amused at how quickly and easily they had done it.

“What is it, Slayer?” the sister asked, veiled frustration in her voice.

Buffy winced a little mentally. There weren’t a whole lot of fluffy happy feelings in that question. “Well, I was just wondering...I mean, I’m here and all...and you’re the ones that called me back...so you’re probably the one’s I should ask...”

The sister sighed, actually sighed visibly at her ramblings. _“Are you quite certain we were not mistaken, brother? Because this child does not seem capable of finishing a sentence, much less saving the world from plunging into eternal darkness.”_

The brother couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud in delight at his sister’s frustration. It was too delicious not to. She shot him an irritated glare as Buffy looked at him in surprise. _“She is the one and you know it, sister. And I believe she may have a question.”_

As soon as the male laughed, at nothing apparently, Buffy remembered what else Spike had told her about them. They communicated mentally. _That’s a little ruder than two all-knowing entities should be, don’t you think?_

The male grinned at her expression, which was currently mirroring his sister’s irritated one. “ _I will apologize for the laughter, Slayer. I am afraid I cannot apologize for communicating mentally. That is what we do. It is a part of what we are. You cannot blame us for that any more than you can blame a bird for flying or the wind for blowing. It is our nature.”_

As soon as Buffy heard the male’s voice in her head her eyes had gone wide in amazement. And for some reason what he said made her think of Spike. She didn’t know why.

“You had a question I believe?” The serious voice of the sister brought everyone back to the matter at hand.

“Right,” Buffy muttered, momentarily losing her previous train of thought. It came back to her. “Yeah. Question. I was curious about one thing - ”

 _“Only one, how surprising.”_ This time the brother managed to stifle the laughter at his sister’s thoughts.

“I mean, Spike explained why you needed me to go back. Some big evil brewing on the horizon that only I can stop - got that part. Same old, same old there. But that whole ‘Keeper of the Balance’ thing? Not that it doesn’t sound nice - it does. I was just wondering what I’m keeping in balance exactly? Is it me? Is it the world?”

If it was possible for the sister to look any further down her nose at the Slayer than she had been, she did. “Yes.”

The brother saw the slightly affronted look on Buffy’s face and cursed his sister mentally - and silently. Her attitude could lead them into trouble if it continued. He tried to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

“Your balance is what will help you maintain the balance in the world. You are the Chosen One. That is why it is necessary for you to go back. Balance is everything, it must be maintained. The Forces of Light and the Forces of Dark have struggled for supremacy since the beginning of time. Each side wanting to claim victory, neither side willing to concede that in victory there is only defeat. They must stay in balance. Only when there are no victors is the battle won.”

Buffy listened and sighed. O _h yeah, really done with that whole mysterious ‘guide-speak’ thing - which is right up there with the ‘I may as well be speaking in tongues’ speak. What is that, anyway? Do all mystical types have some big grudge against the sense making? They have some ancient rulebook of confusion they have to abide by?_

“That was very helpful,” she said out loud to the male, “in a not so much kind of way.”

He smiled sympathetically. “All will be revealed in good time.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. _Yeah. Heard that one before. Usually right before I go up against something really horrible. I swear, why do I even bother?_ She sighed.

“Okay, Oracles. You win. I’ll play the wait and see game...again. I’m getting good at that, actually. Go ahead, send me on my merry way.”

Perhaps it was the time in heaven, perhaps it was the new balance she found, but Buffy wasn’t as irritated or upset by the not knowing as she would have been before. It was just acceptance, and there was peace in that.

She tried to soothe the female Oracle’s obviously ruffled feathers in the bargain. “Sorry. I tend to be an instant gratification type person when it comes to information on things that might kill me. I’ll work on that. Guess it’s a pretty good thing you sent Spike straight back, he’s way worse than me with the whole ‘patience is a virtue’ thing.”

It was an honest attempt at conciliatory behavior. Buffy had a warm smile on her face as she said it. It was a smile that faded quickly when she saw the surprised look that passed between the Oracles. A cold trickle of concern danced down Buffy’s spine and she felt her stomach drop into her stomach.

Something was wrong. She felt it.

“What?”

The Oracles turned back to her. _“The vampire will not be returning to your dimension.”_

It was the male that spoke into her mind, and there was confusion in both the mental voice and in his eyes. Now, instead of just dropping, Buffy’s stomach twisted painfully even as her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

For long seconds she stared at them before she said anything. When she did speak, there was no longer any humor in her voice. “I think it would be a good idea for one of you tell me what you mean by that.”

The sister looked briefly at her brother and quickly decided she would be the best one to handle this. “The vampire was sent to a realm that was...resistant to his presence. It was also resistant to allowing your return. The price of his success was his existence. As was the price of his failure.”

Buffy just stared. She couldn’t get her mind to wrap around what the female was telling her. “Wait. Resistant? The price was his existence? What are you talking about?”

The Oracles didn’t answer her, they stayed serious and silent. It was all the answer Buffy needed. She felt her Slayer senses swirling around her and the power once again emerged.

She went from concerned to seriously pissed off in less than a blink. In a cold tone she nailed the sister with icy words. “Do you mean to tell me that you sent Spike into heaven to get me out and now it’s going to kill him for it?”

Without losing a drop of haughty confidence, the sister blinked once and told her, “You have returned. The vampire was successful. The realm would have reacted swiftly, I imagine. Most likely he has already been terminated. I fail to see the relevance of discussing it further.”

Fury flashed hot and bright in the Slayer and she stepped menacingly toward the creature that had so calmly divulged such a hideous thing. “The ‘vampire’ is important to me. That’s the relevance. He’s a friend.”

As soon as she said the words she felt the rightness in saying them. Whatever else Spike was, whatever else he may become when he was returned - and he would be - what he was first and foremost was a friend. And no one threatened harm to Buffy’s friends without feeling the wrath of the Slayer.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me he’s dead. You don’t know the first thing about him. He’s not as easy to kill as you might think, believe me, I know. So let me tell you, you’d better start figuring out a way to get him out of there or I’m going to get very unpleasant, very quickly.”

The brother watched as the two powerful females squared off. He could feel the tension in the air. “Slayer, the choice was the vampire’s to make. He made it willingly.”

Buffy practically snorted in disdain of the pair. “Of course he’d make it willingly if you didn’t tell him his life was on the line. He wanted me back. He’d have done anything to get me back...”

Her words trailed off as the realization dawned. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared scornfully at both of them. “That’s the real reason you sent him, wasn’t it? You knew he’d do it, no questions asked, and you couldn’t risk my friends or my sister refusing to take me away from the peace of that place. You played on his feelings for me. That he was a vampire was just a bonus - you knew all along all he would need to do was show a little attitude and fang and it would force that lovely Slayer side of me to return to my responsibilities.”

Somber but unrepentant, the Oracles mentally questioned one another on the best way to handle this extremely volatile situation. In the end they were bound by their duties as guides to be honest with the girl.

“You are correct,” admitted the brother.

“And you are mistaken,” added the sister.

Buffy rolled her eyes, frustrated and angry at the obvious contradiction. She was really itching to wipe those placid expressions right off both of their faces.

Speaking calmly and unhurriedly, the brother continued. “The vampire was called because we had made note of his...interest in you.”

The sister picked up the cadence in the same even tone. “We watched as he fought beside you against the Hell God and we had observed him fighting for you on other occasions.”

Together they said, “We were also aware that his nature would be best suited to bringing forth the warrior in you once again.”

“But,” the brother said, nodding his head slightly in emphasis, “he was made well aware of the ramifications of his actions.”

“Yes, Slayer,” said the sister, “we were honest with him. He knew the price that he would be paying.”

Buffy shook her head vehemently. “No. No way. There is no way he would willingly - “

But there was. And Spike’s own words came back to haunt her.

She’d been in the caves on the edge of Sunnydale, comforting Dawn at the time. Trying to calm her sister’s fears that Willow would do anything rash by trying to take on Glory alone after Glory had stolen Tara’s mind. Spike had been listening and disagreed. Even after Buffy tried to explain that taking on Glory would be suicide, Spike had said, “I’d do it. Right person. Person I loved. I’d do it.”

He had. He loved her and had taken on heaven itself for that love. “Oh God.”

Buffy turned and sunk down on the top step of the stairs and rested her elbows on her knees, face covered by her hands. She felt sick. He never told her, never even gave any indication that he wasn’t going back. Or had he? The kiss. That amazingly passionate kiss. That had taken guts, given their history together. And now she knew where those guts had come from. It was a kiss goodbye.

_Damn you, Spike, what the hell were you thinking?_

“Actually,” the brother said, listening in on the Slayer’s thoughts, “it was not for you, his sacrifice. Not specifically anyway.”

Buffy spun around, her face drawn and tight. The newfound balance was still in place, but it was being sorely tested. She practically snarled at him. “What?”

“My brother is correct. The vampire was against the proposal at first.”

“Yes,” the brother continued as Buffy’s head swung back to him, “he was quite vehement in the belief that you had suffered enough in your life. You deserved the tranquility of the realm you were in.”

“That was quite a surprise to us, actually.” The sister remembered the fear that they had both felt when Spike first refused to go. She shuddered mentally at the reminder. “It is contradictory to the nature of a vampire to hold another’s concerns in higher regard than his own.”

The brother got the vague look in his eyes that one gets when remembering past events. “He was quite intriguing, really. He was not as we had anticipated at all. Not a warrior for our side, yet he had pledged fealty to one who was and was really quite extraordinary in his responses. He had no soul, but his actions indicated some sense of a moral compass. He was more than he should have been able to be. It was fascinating.”

The Oracles words hit Buffy hard. There was so much truth in them, a truth that she had denied for so long - and had only recently accepted. It infuriated her that these beings could see in such little time what had taken her so long to clue in to. And it was a fury that she directed at herself.

But she took it out on them.

Hot rage had her leaping to her feet and grabbing the male’s shoulder in a crushing grip before he had even noticed she’d moved. She snarled, “You speak about him in the past tense one more time and I’ll make sure that’s all your sister has left when speaking about you. He is NOT dead!”

The brother felt his sister gather her energy in retaliation. He knew she was two seconds from smacking the Slayer with a painful mind slap, much as she’d knocked the vampire when he’d been prepared to attack the Borymous. _“No, sister. It is not necessary. Leave her alone. It is the anger speaking, she will be alright in a minute.”_

He didn’t move, he stood there and calmly waited for some of the fiery fury to drain out of the Slayers eyes. As it did, she relaxed her hold and finally released him.

_“If she attacks you again, brother, I’m sending her into the nearest pillar.”_

The protective behavior was a comfort. He caressed her gently with his mind in thanks. He didn’t bother to tell her he was quite capable of defending himself, she knew it.

Through teeth clenched in tight control, Buffy asked them, “You said he refused first. That he didn’t go back for me. What did you mean?”

The sister stepped forward, moving in front of her brother in an obviously protective maneuver, and glared at Buffy. “It was imperative that you go back. When he refused, we were left with no other option but to show him what would happen to the world if you didn’t. He took one look at the hell the earth was to become and said he’d go.”

“He did it for the good of many, not just you. Not just The K - ” The brother was going to say ‘The Key’...right up until the Slayers deadly glare sliced into him. He decided to take a vampire’s advice. “Not just Dawn. Not just your friends. He did it because he knew it needed to be done.”

His words confused her. Since when did Spike ever put the fate of the world in front of his own agendas?

Sure, she could imagine him sacrificing himself for her and even Dawn, but somehow she couldn’t even see him doing much for the rest of the gang - and he knew them - let alone an anonymous mass population that he once referred to as ‘happy meals with legs’. Even if he couldn’t bite them anymore, he was still a vampire. A soulless vampire. He may not be a monster, but that hadn’t changed.

But what if he was still a vampire with the ability to rise above his inherent nature. Is it possible? And if so - why Spike? Why not...

_No. Don’t go there, Buffy. That way is doomed to badness. You can’t keep measuring all things male against Angel. It’s not fair. It wasn’t fair to Riley and you’re not going to do it to Spike. And Angel and Riley both left. Spike didn’t. No matter how much pain you dished out, he didn’t leave. He was always there when you needed his help. That’s gotta count for something, right?_

Suddenly it became even more important for Buffy to get Spike back. She wanted - no, needed - to know if what the Oracles said is true. That somewhere in the middle of all of the stuff that had been going on before she died, Spike had acquired something like a conscience, if not a soul.

She frowned at the suspicious ache in her chest. It hurt, knowing Spike was in danger. It hurt a lot. _He’s not dead...he can’t be dead._

The sister saw the frown. She misinterpreted it. She hadn’t been reading the Slayer’s thoughts.

“It seems,” she said conversationally to her brother, “that the Slayer may not have known the vampire as well as she thought she did.” It was a senseless gibe, and it was ill advised.

The brother saw it coming but couldn’t stop it.

Buffy had been staring at the ground, trying to think the Spike situation through when she heard the Oracle’s words. Slowly and with an eerily calm purpose, she raised her head to meet the large, inhuman blue eyes of the female. There was nothing but contempt and anger in the Slayer’s icy glare.

She leapt forward - Slayer senses and strength throbbing gloriously through her - and grabbed the sister by the throat. Not to injure her, mind, just to hold her. Buffy smiled a ferocious smile at the uppity entity. It was not intended to be friendly.

“There had to have been another way. The Powers...they’re all powery. The only way you gave Spike to get me back was this? I don’t think so. There had to have been another way.”

The sister didn’t take the time to answer, she was none too pleased with being manhandled in such a debasing manner and she certainly wasn’t going to sit and discuss that creature with this child any longer. She didn’t care if the child was the Chosen One. She reached out her mind and slapped the Slayer upside the head with a swift mental smack.

But nothing happened.

The only indication the Slayer gave that she felt it was little more than a slight bob in her head.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she felt the mental nudge. She saw the female’s eyes widen in surprise and guessed she’d just been targeted for a mental attack that went awry. The grin that spread slowly across her face was not pleasant.

The brother was frantic to break it up. He saw what happened with the mind slap. That blow was more powerful than the one his sister had hit the vampire with. It had been capable of severely damaging a normal human. It would even have knocked the Slayer for a loop, if she’d still been just the Slayer. She wasn’t.

He started talking - quickly - about what Spike’s first choice had been and why the vampire refused.

Each word he said made Buffy feel worse, ripped into her a little more, tore her up, and made her feel Spike’s loss that much more keenly. Because each word reminded Buffy of just how much of a man Spike was. And how much she liked - more than liked - that man. Her heart broke for him even as her resolve strengthened.

Finally, when the Oracle had finished his hasty retelling of the whole story, Buffy turned her attention back to the sister. She tilted her head a bit and tossed the entity away from her as if she weighed next to nothing.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tossed her head a little to push her hair back off her shoulders, then raised her chin to stare the two beings down.

“So what you’re telling me is that I was supposed to allow my sister to sacrifice herself after the dimensional walls fell. I was supposed to just let her die. This was another - what did you call it? - trial. And when Spike got a chance to right this grievous error in judgment I made, he refused. You know what? I’m really starting to wonder just who the soulless demons are. ‘Cuz I’m thinking not Spike. Funny, isn’t it? Even a vampire has more compassion than the two of you.”

Buffy was through with it. She was through playing games and she was through playing by the Powers’ rules. This was her time now. They needed her. And if the whole Glory thing had taught Buffy one thing, it was that there was power to be had in being needed. Her words cut into both of them.

“You and your ‘Powers’ have done a real good job of stripping everything that matters away from me. And for what? So I would be more Slayerly? More easily controlled by my sense of duty without the drawbacks of silly little distractions like love, family, and friendship? And now you have the audacity to tell me that not only would the way it was ‘supposed’ to have been taken one more thing - but the way it is now is taking a different thing altogether. A friend in lieu of a sister. You know what? I don’t think so. You’ve taken enough - way more than enough.”

Full of righteous indignation and rolling, thunderous anger she stalked slowly closer to where the two stood watching her warily.

“I’m not letting you strip away one more thing. You don’t get Spike. So start thinking of a way to get him here, ‘cuz you know what? If you don’t? I’m done. You can send me back; I probably can’t stop you from that. But I’m done with it. You’ll have to find a different warrior - oh wait...there aren’t any. That’s why you needed me. Pity.”

She leaned forward with an intensely aggressive glint in her eyes and hissed. “I guess you’ll just have to spend the rest of eternity watching whatever Spike saw that was so disturbing, it made a vampire willing to take on heaven itself to make sure it never happened.”

Completely numbed by this new development, the sister could only stammer “Y-you w-wouldn’t. You are the C-Chosen One. You would n-never let the innocents in your dimension s-suffer.”

“You couldn’t,” the brother said quietly, equally shaken internally but more composed than his sister, “because that would invalidate the vampire’s sacrifice for you. He would have died in vain.”

“The ‘vampire’ has a name. Spike. And as for couldn’t and wouldn’t...if I’m not mistaken, people, an eternity lies in the balance. You wanna bet on it?”


	13. Chapter 13

“Umm. Giles. What is that?”

Xander had been thrown forcibly back through the doorway when he tried to follow after Dawn. What was left of the Scooby gang rushed to where he landed, half in, half out of the family room, a good ten feet from where his impromptu tumble through the air began.

They were so focused on the young man that they didn’t notice what was going on in the living room behind them. Xander saw it as he sat up, clutching his right arm and wincing in pain. At his question, the group glanced back at noticed for the first time the effect Dawn’s contact with Willow had on the room.

And what they now all saw had Anya breaking off in mid-rant her fear motivated, angry comments about Xander’s decided lack of intelligence at such a foolish endeavor as following after Dawn, and had Giles whipping the glasses off his face. Tara just stood with her mouth slightly agape.

“Anyone?” Xander questioned again, unable to break his eyes away from it. “Giles? What IS that?”

Under his breath, in hardly more than a whisper, Giles muttered, “Oh, dear Lord.”

What had been only a relatively small vortex of wind and magickal energy - bad enough at the time - had grown into a swirling, floor to ceiling wall of cyclonic crackling color. And it was expanding. Rapidly.

Not bothering to question what his gut was screaming at him, Giles turned back to Xander and grabbed him by the shoulders, heaving him up to his feet with surprising strength.

“Move!” He yelled to the transfixed young people around him. “Bloody hell, Go!! Out of the house, NOW!”

Pushing them all along in front of him like a human bulldozer, Giles forced the confused and horrified gang out the front door and onto the lawn. He had only hope that it was to safety.

 

********************

 

It was so dark, and for the first few seconds Dawn was really questioning the wisdom of her rash actions. Here she was a stranger in a strange land. The nether realm.

Once the pulling feeling let go of her she got the first chance to try to examine her surroundings, but it was so pitch black there was nothing to see. It scared her.

_Great plan you had there, Dawn. Nothing terrifying about this at all...nope...no sir. So now what?_

Spinning around in confusion and concern, she caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of her eye. She tried to find it again, squinting against the inky blackness. Yes. There it was.

Once she’d locked onto it, Dawn started stepping cautiously forward, desperately hoping there were no obstacles in her way to run into or trip over - she wouldn’t be able to see them if there were.

The glimmer of light got stronger as she made her way through the almost palpable darkness, increasing Dawn’s confidence and speeding her steps. She smiled in triumph when she finally got up next to the source of the light. A thread...a cable, if you will, of coppery iridescence with just the tiniest trickle of green running through it, pulsing with energy and lighting a small path through the abyss on her right. Spike.

It was his aura trail. Dawn knew it. She mentally patted herself on the back - choosing to ignore that little bout of abject fear and self-doubt she’d had - and leaned over to take a closer look at the cause of all the hubbub in her own dimension.

No bigger than the width of her forearm, it appeared cohesive, if not solid. She reached out a mental ‘hand’ and brushed her fingers gently along one side. And giggled.

It tickled, but it also felt cool and comforting. And no sooner did she come in contact with Spike’s aura then the coppery colors separated from the swirling green as if drawn to her touch. Instead of being mixed, it pulled away just slightly, leaving the traces of green to pool off to one side, furthest away from her fingers.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that the coppery shimmer was Spike. That left Willow as the green. Dawn made a mental note and grinned. She’d been right. She’d been right all along.

That was a very good thing.

And there had been no nasty surprises. Both her essence and her aura had remained firmly rooted in their own realm. Fear that they wouldn’t - that what had happened to Willow would happen to her - had been the cause of some minor trepidation. It had itched at Dawn’s mind as a potential problem, but she’d been betting that whatever emotions Spike was feeling in this section of his trail, they would have nothing to gain by forcing her into merging with him. He was her protector, and his aura may have instinctively recognized Willow’s power as a tool to be used and pulled it in as a means of better protecting her.

It had been risky, betting on that, and more than a little foolhardy, but Dawn just tried to think what Buffy would have done in the same circumstances. She’d have been all, “Damn the consequences, I’m going in,” so that’s just what Dawn did. Action. It was about taking action to get the job done. Dawn was all about that.

Straightening up from her mentally crouched position, she peered down the long trail stretching out in front of her. With determination and a small smile of pride, she started following along the lit path. She still had a way to go in actually getting Willow back, but she felt a renewed sense of confidence in herself.

_Maybe this will finally show them. Show all of them. I’m NOT just a kid. And when I have good ideas - which is, like, always - they should listen to me, sheesh._

 

********************

 

“What the hell was she thinking?” Giles was terrified, for Dawn, for all of them - truly terrified. And it came out as anger.

The group stood in the yard and watched through the open front door as the wall of energy expanded past where they had been standing before the blinding colors blocked out their view. It didn’t expand past the walls of the house, which had everyone breathing a sigh of relief, but it had effectively cut off any hope of entering beyond the doorway. The house, for all intents and purposes, was sealed off to them.

“I mean, really. Would someone please tell me just what in the hell the girl was thinking?” Giles’ voice was quickly rising as anger mixed with a type of hysteria that was quite unattractive for someone of his age and normally staunch and stoic character.

“She’s a child. When will she get that through her head? Did I not make myself perfectly clear? I believe I was speaking English in there earlier. She is not to be taking such foolhardy chances with her safety in such a manner. And now look what she’s done!” Giles gestured wildly to the house.

Had the circumstances been a little less dire, it would have been vastly amusing for the gang, seeing someone they all knew to be calm and reserved going off the deep end so effectively. But because they were so dire, and because everyone else happened to be sharing his thoughts, if not expressing them, they weren’t feeling terribly inclined to find much humor in the situation at all.

“Honestly, I was pleasantly enjoying the delusion that life with a strong willed Slayer that had a tendency to not follow proper procedures and protocols was as difficult as I would have it. I really had no idea, did I? This...this is just too much! Please explain to me what in the bloody hell she was thinking?!”

The silence that slammed down on the night when Giles drew his words to an abrupt halt weighed heavily on all of them. Xander, Anya, and Tara exchanged nervous glances, not wanting to say anything that would get him going again - especially if he started directing that anger their way.

Giles turned his back on the house and stared into the night sky. He was struggling desperately for some control, but fear of losing another child - and that’s what she was to him, his other child - had stripped away even the illusion of control. He didn’t know if he could survive another loss like the one he had sustained the night Buffy died. And he was devastated because he had no idea how to prevent it. He felt...old...worn down by a life that normally gave him great comfort.

Xander watched the Watcher as he dealt with his own issues - issues like his deep seeded hatred of the bleached blonde vampire that caused all this mess to begin with - but he knew they would need Giles to get it together if they had any hope of fixing this.

_I swear to God, Spike. If I ever see your pale, bloodsucking ass again I’m going to stick a stake into your chest and cheerily wave you on your way to a dusty hell._

After waiting for the man to calm down enough not to take his head off, Xander reached out and laid a reassuring hand on Giles’ shoulder. “Come on, Giles. We’ll fix this. Willow and Dawn will be fine. But you need to stop going all raving lunatic on us, now, okay?”

When Giles’ head snapped around and pinned him with an icy glare, Xander thought he hadn’t waited quite long enough and prepared to get blasted with some British venom, but the man’s eyes softened slightly before he snapped out anything damaging. The fear in those eyes, eyes not known for showing fear - derision, sardonic amusement, wisdom, yes; fear, no - clutched Xander’s heart in a tight fist but he smiled a reassuring smile.

“You know,” Anya’s voice pulled their attention away from what was quickly becoming an uncomfortable mushy man moment - a thing to be avoided at all costs - and they gratefully turned and looked at the ex-demon. “I have to say that I am not emotionally equipped to handle another funeral right now. So, I would appreciate it if you would tell us what we need to do to stop all this nether realm jumping, energy wall attacking madness so I can go home instead of visiting a morgue.”

It was completely inappropriate, what she said. It was crass and unfeeling and cold. And it was so completely Anya that for a minute, no one knew what to say.

Giles was at a loss. He wanted to walk up to the girl and smack her, he really did. But how was that different from any other time she opened her mouth? Oddly enough, that struck Giles as funny. I mean, really, what can you expect? A chuckle started in his stomach and rolled out of him before he could stop it. Xander heard it and shot him a weird look, and that just made Giles laugh harder. Soon, he was clutching his side with his right hand and rubbing his face with the left - wiping at the tears the laughter brought out.

Anya frowned at him, “I really don’t think this is the time for inappropriate humor. I want to go home. But I know Xander. He won’t go until everything is back to normal so we need to know what to do to make that happen. You can stop laughing now.”

And with that pretentiously spoken demand, Tara giggled. Her eyes widened in surprise and she slapped a hand over her mouth. The expression set Giles off again and he gave a deep, barking, belly laugh. It turned out to be contagious. Soon all three of them, Xander, Giles, and Tara, were struggling to bring themselves under control. They weren’t helped by the crossed arms and monumentally irritated expression on Anya’s face. Every time one of them looked at her, it all started again.

“People!” Anya finally cried, when it looked like they were never going to stop. “I highly doubt your amusement is an effective tool to prevent Willow and Dawn’s death.”

It was a torrent of cold water on a fire. Their hysteria-borne laughter died quickly and painfully as reality intruded.

Anya nodded with satisfaction, “Alright, then. Now. Any ideas as to what would be an effective tool?”

Side hurting, arm hurting, heart hurting, Xander looked at Giles and asked, “Are you sure we can’t get in there to them? I mean...there has to be a way, right?”

Giles didn’t answer him. He looked back at the energy in the doorway and then bent over and picked up a small pebble lying on the nearby sidewalk, tossing it into the blocked opening of the house.

When it came in contact with the energy barrier, light flared and there was a crack of sound. They had to shield their eyes so they didn’t see what happened to the stone, but they heard it. And they heard what was left of it as it dropped to the porch in crumbled pieces.

“Okay, then,” mumbled Xander sheepishly, “guess that’s a big no on the frontal attack. What is that, anyway, Giles? I mean...what happened? Is this just another tasty bonus of Dawn being The Key?”

Giles was quick to reassure them all that he didn’t believe that to be the case. “Quite frankly, I believe that what we’re seeing is exactly what we have been seeing all along.”

When the three of them looked at him in confusion and disbelief, he sighed and tried to explain his theory. “Working on the assumption that what we were seeing before was a subconsciously controlled physical manifestation of the magickal energy Willow has access to, and assuming again that the energy was feeding off of Willow to sustain itself, what we’re seeing now is quite probably the exact same thing. With Dawn acting like a kind of super battery, providing more natural energy than we’d witnessed previously.”

“And again I’m with the ‘huh?’” Xander looked confused and scared. “Wait...energy? But you said this wasn’t Key related! And Dawn, she’s all ancient energy transformed. Couldn’t that be why we’ve got the front row seats for this nifty light show?”

Giles stared at the boy seriously, “I don’t believe it is. Dawn is young. And a young girl going through her particular stage of physical development is just one walking ball of energy in her own right. It isn’t necessary to be The Key to cause such a rise in phenomenon.”

“Okay,” piped up Anya again, “information is all well and good, but not very helpful in the solutions department. How do we unplug the power source?”

No one answered her. No one knew what to say.

Tara’s mind was racing. She had an idea, but it went against every fiber of her being to even entertain such a dramatically dangerous course of action. The risk was immense. If she was wrong, both Willow and Dawn could die. But what if she’s right?

Even if she was, she had no idea if she could convince Giles and Xander to go along with it.

The problem was if Giles and Xander tried anything else, they risked themselves as well as Willow and Dawn. She knew how powerful that magickal wall was. There was absolutely no way she could even hope to manipulate that kind of raw energy and not get burned to a crisp. And she was a witch. If they tried, it would kill them. Period. And there would be nothing left of them but ashes.

“I-I think w-we may have to l-leave them al-lone.” She hated the stutter; she always had, but couldn’t keep it from happening when she was nervous, or uptight. Right now she was both. But she was also determined.

No one heard her at first, and she realized she hadn’t done more than whisper the words under her breath. She screwed up her courage and tried again in a more forceful tone. “I think we may have to leave them alone.”

Xander and Giles both spun around and stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Giles opened his mouth, prepared to disagree vehemently with the ludicrous idea, and was surprised when Tara met his eyes. She wasn’t one for a lot of eye contact. He could see the fear there, and the determination, and under all that was hope. It was the hope that held him silent.

“Giles, I think I know what Dawn was thinking. I think I may know why she believed she was the only one who could do it. And I think she may just be right.”

Giles looked skeptical. “Tara, forgive me for saying so, but that is quite a lot of ‘I thinks’.”

She looked down at the ground nervously. Giles always had the ability to intimidate her, and the accent made everything he said sound just that much more...well, intimidating. _Come on_ , she thought to herself, _if you’re ever going to, this is the time to assert yourself. It’s about time you started earning your Scooby gang membership._

She raised her head again and tried to appear much more confidant than she felt.

“Dawn knew that Spike would never hurt her. He would do anything to protect her. She accepts that as fact, and even though we don’t understand why it’s true, it is true. We’ve all seen it. Since Dawn used the connection already in place to enter the nether realm, she would have been pulled in close enough to the aura trail to be able to see it. And she’s smart enough to follow it to wherever Willow is along that trail. We were talking about how one of us would need to pull Willow out of the merging, but Dawn probably realized something we didn’t. She can get Spike’s aura to let her go. Just by being there, she can get his aura to let go enough for Willow to break free. All she needs is time.”

Xander looked back and forth from Giles to Tara. He watched Giles becoming more and more interested in what she was saying and he gritted his teeth, anger bubbling painfully in his stomach. He liked Tara, he really did, but there was no way he was going to sit by and do nothing while Spike’s ‘unconscious’ will drained dry two of the most important people in his life. No how, no way.

“Time,” he snorted, “yeah - and while we’re giving Dawn the time, what’s Evil Dead’s ghost gonna be doing? Gotta give him credit, he’s always working the vamp angle. He can’t drain our blood but he’s still managing to suck the life right out of the two of them.”

Giles frowned at the level of anger he heard in Xander’s voice. There was real venom in it and it bothered him. Giles wasn’t fond of Spike, either, he’d be the first to admit it, but the vampire was important to Dawn, and she had convinced him earlier that night that Spike had a purpose among them. Things were bound to get difficult if and when they got Spike back if he didn’t say something now.

“As much as I hate defending Spike, and believe me, that’s quite a lot, this isn’t something he’s doing purposely, Xander. It’s not a conscious attack.”

The hostile young man glared at the energy pulsing in the doorway and said, “And yet somehow I can’t seem to care.” He caught the look Giles gave him out of the corner of his eye. He finally conceded. “Fine. We give Dawn time. How much time? And what do we do while we’re waiting? Develop an interesting hobby like, oh, I don’t know...knitting doilies?”

“Um...” Tara mumbled, “I th-think you crochet doilies, actually.”

When he just stared hard at her she flushed bright pink and stammered, “S-sorry. N-Not important.”

Giles reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys, handing them to Xander. “We give her all the time that she needs right up until the energy shows signs of weakening. I want you to take Tara and Anya to the shop and pick up some supplies. If it looks like they are starting be drained to dangerous levels it might lessen the strength of the barrier enough for us to break through - but we’ll need Tara’s expertise to do it.”

He glanced over at the young witch, who was blushing faintly at the praise and the acceptance of her plan. “Tara, you know what you’ll need, right?”

When she nodded at him he smiled slightly. “Good. Anya, go with them. If there’s anything that Tara requires that’s not on the shelves, get it out of the inventory.”

“Right,” the relatively recent human girl nodded enthusiastically. “This is what I like to see. A workable plan. Very good. And what are you going to do?”

Giles looked once more at the house, worry plainly etched in his face and weighing down his shoulders. “What else? Crochet a doily.”

 

********************

 

It had taken awhile, Dawn was mentally exhausted, but she’d gotten there. Even with the light from Spike’s aura as a guide, the darkness and silence of the nether realm gave Dawn a big case of the heeby geeby’s. She really wouldn’t mind seeing the end of it any time soon and she had no intention of ever visiting again.

But she’d made it.

Staring down at the end of Spike’s trail she noticed that Willow had been quite literal in her explanation of it. It did quite abruptly cut off. It just hung there, in midair, the end touching some kind of wall or barrier. The wall to the realm that Spike had disappeared into.

And this was where she’d followed the slivers of green, also. Dawn was relieved. Willow had made it. There was a lot of green here. It danced and swirled frenetically over and through the coppery color, more prominent than at any other point. Willow’s essence and mental self had traveled the whole distance. Hopefully she’d gotten a look into the other dimension so all of this badness had a chance for a happy ending.

While she was traveling, Dawn had tested the reaction of Spike’s aura with her touch several times along the way. Each time she’d felt the comforting coolness and each time the copper had gravitated toward her outstretched mental hand. This time should be no different.

She reached out one more time, knowing this was the real deal, and prayed that Willow had enough of herself left to recognize the lessened hold on her as a means of escape. She made contact and waited breathlessly to see what would happen.

 

********************

 

Bashing, pounding, slashing, slamming, Willow - the last thread of Willow - threw herself, threw Spike’s aura and everything that was left of her against the barrier over and over.

She was beyond rational thought - driven by her own horror at the resignation and determination that had pushed Spike into actions that had him stepping into hell without railing, fighting, clawing against such an obscenity.

Overloaded by emotions she had no control over and no known reason for.

Willow wailed against the not knowing why, but she pulsed and shook with the emotional fallout. The torment of a vampire.

Motion. Something not there before. And whispers. Buggish whispers of cockroaches crawling behind a wall and the feeling of a presence sneaking up on her had Willow’s mind pulling back from another attack on the barrier.

She was buffeted by emotions that made no sense given where they were. Emotions so tragically misplaced yet profoundly intense that it buzzed like electrical currents of nastiness through her essence and aura - tickling her mind with painful tips of shark’s teeth.

Something recognizable but unknown to the cobweb of Willow’s mind. And a tsunami-sized tidal wave of...surprise? Pleasure? No sense. Made no sense. Wrong. The witch that was the vampire balked at the feelings.

 _Tricks, they’re nasty tricks, don’t give in. Don’t feel this joy. It’s a lie that will be stripped away from you like a warm blanket on an icy night and all that will be left is the agony_. Willow knew agony. She knew Spike’s agony. It was so powerful, acid burning, eating - gorging on her until sanity fled.

_Fight. Damn it, fight. Rage against the perpetrator of such harsh cruelty._

Slipping away, the emotions, slipping away and hiding where Willow couldn’t go. Pooling her to one side as if she were no longer of any importance to the equation. Blocked from that part of her. _Couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let them fall for it. Call back the trail. Call back the aura. Protect it from grotesque disillusionment. Attack._

_Attack the interloper. The thief in the night. The warrior sent to destroy. Crush, bash, tear, rip him away from the two that were now one as you had been ripped away to become one out of two. Pain. Give pain. Inflict scalpel blades of cold, fiery, split-open badness. The time was now._

Blocked by this different kind of barrier, Willow’s mind tried to rise above the walls and smite the creature capable of such allure that Spike’s aura gravitated towards it with the innocent trust of a swaddling, bawling babe.

There was no vision, no sight but the opening, gaping, maw of the hell Spike had entered. It played an endlessly vicious cycle in the crippled, decrepit mental mind of a girl. Even after the emotions pulled back. Left with only herself, twirling less tightly knit, Willow could force action. _Protect him. Don’t allow him to be subjected to more._

She gathered her broken mind, an essence that had lived millennia of emotion in hours, an aura bleached by pain and misuse. She attacked. _Protect him. Kill. Rip. Tear. Punish. Mutilate. Evil. This is evil. Stop it._

Like a phoenix out of the ashes, Willow rose over the partition separating her from Spike’s aura, blind to the visual input of what she was preparing to attack. Knowing nothing but the picture of hell in her mind. Fighting perhaps that.

But the aura responded. Spike’s aura rose to meet the challenge. What had been a companion, a confidant of vile, unspeakable horror, a partner in a crime against inhumanity - inflicting damage but leading the way down an enforced, twisted, evil path towards hell - was now an avenging angel of demanding intensity. A wounded lion warring to defend its own.

Willow didn’t understand. She was attacking for him and he turned on her with surprising viciousness. They merged again, in battle.

Again came torrents of emotion, his emotions. Defend. Protect. Destroy.

Willow knew it was she, not the intruder, who was to be destroyed. And she trembled under the assault from the vampire’s aura.

Pushed, ripped from her new home. Painfully stripped away from the merging, Willow was cast out. Thrown away from the path that she had been on. Screaming mentally at the agony of it. Lost and blind in the darkness, Willow screeched in defeat and pain.

Alone for the first time in a long time and out of Spike’s trail, she was lost in solitude. Lost in aloneness. Lost to the insanity that had sucked her down into her own hell. No longer sharing his.

Falling hard, she stared at the absence of light and feeling, screaming still.

But this time, her screams were heard.

Dawn had touched the stream of merged auras like she had all the other times. And she had thought, at first, that everything was just the same as it had been before. But this time, when the larger pool of green that was Willow had separated from the coppery color of Spike, it seemed to almost resist the split instead of taking the escape she offered and pulling away.

She watched, not knowing what was going on, as Willow seemed to draw herself, her elements, up and over the space opened by Spike’s drawing near her hand. Tendrils of jade green snaked out towards her.

It hadn’t frightened her, she just thought Willow knew she was here and didn’t understand that she was being given a means of escape. It wasn’t until Spike’s aura turned away from her touch and rose to slam into the green, squeezing the tendrils back and preventing them from coming any closer that she thought something may be wrong.

And her jaw dropped at the obvious signs of struggle between the two colors. Not that she hadn’t expected a struggle of some kind, but she’d expected Spike not want to let Willow go. She never thought that Willow would fight to stay with him. But that’s what it looked like to Dawn. The green was clinging to the copper. Then it shimmered and swirled under what was an obvious attack.

It made no sense.

And when, finally, the green had been thrown out of the stream, when it broke away and landed mostly cloaked in darkness just a few steps away - no longer a green swirling of color but the ‘mental’ figure of the girl that Dawn had come to retrieve - Dawn went from confused to horrified as Willow’s scream, a scream of anguish and futility, rent the air and echoed through the nether realm over and over.

Her hand dropped to her side, out of the aura trail, and she rushed over to the screaming madness that was her friend.

“Willow?”

Dawn’s ears were ringing under barrage of shrieking sound. She knelt down to the cowering figure in front of her, terror etched hauntingly on her face. She didn’t know what to do.

Wanting to comfort, needing to do something, anything to halt that echoing scream, she reached down and gently touched Willow’s shoulder. Under her hand, she felt the instinctive flinch. Willow pulled away and mindlessly pushed herself back, away from her touch.

Her screams became whimpers.

Dawn patiently followed after her and tried again, more forcefully.

“Willow!”

Instead of just gently touching her shoulder, Dawn grabbed the girl firmly by the shoulders and gave her a quick shake. Willow’s sightless and unfocused eyes stared off into the abyss behind Dawn. She reached a hand up to Willow’s chin and gently turned her face so she could look into those eyes.

“Willow?”

Dawn could do nothing but watch and hope for a glimmer of recognition. Just when it looked like she was never going to see it, when her own terror and worry were choking her, Willow’s eyes seemed to slowly come back into focus. Dawn felt the tears building in her own eyes and she tried to blink them back. Finally, Willow’s whimpers tailed off and she seemed to really see Dawn for the first time.

As if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, Willow raised her mental hand up to Dawn’s cheek and brushed it gently.

“Dawnie?”

Dawn smiled through her tears and nodded, relief making her knees weak.

Willow choked out a sob and fell into Dawn’s comforting embrace, crying out her pain and fear. Slowly, the longer she was out of Spike’s trail, the more her mind came back to her and her sobs turned from fear to relief. Dawn held her, stroking her back soothingly, and let her cry.

“Oh God, Dawnie,” Willow said when she could finally speak again, “I was so scared. It was so horrible. I never knew. How could anyone know?”

Dawn didn’t know what she meant, but she knew Willow needed to get it all out and she remained silent. Questions could come later.

“He felt so much pain. I can’t even describe it. I never knew that someone could feel that much anguish. And he was...hurt...physically...and then, fixed. But I didn’t see what happened. Oh, God, all I saw were demons and creatures and...and...”

Willow pulled back, choking on her words, needing to purge herself of the emotions still swamping her - memories of emotions that were still razor sharp and slicing into her. Making her bleed.

She reached up and took Dawn’s arms in her hands and stared into her eyes.

“He loved her so much. I felt it. The loss. It was killing him, ripping him apart. He loved her so much, Dawnie, and we never knew it. We didn’t believe it was possible but he did. And he loves you, too. I can’t even tell you how much. It was in me, the love for her...for you. It was a part of me and it was huge. Protective and blinding.”

Dawn smiled tenderly at the frantic telling; it was as if Willow were trying to convince her. She didn’t need to. Dawn nodded at her friend’s words.

“I know, Willow. I’ve always known.”

That stopped the young witch. She searched Dawn’s face and saw the truth there. Dawn had never questioned it because she had always seen it. She would. It centered Willow, strengthened her as she saw Dawn’s confidence in such an immense thing. She would need the strength. She had something else to tell Dawn and she’d need all the strength she had to do it.

“I saw where he went. I saw what he saw when the doorway opened. We’re going to get him back. I swear to you, I will get him back.”

Dawn was relieved. More than relieved, she was giddy. “Where is he? Where did he go?”

Willow slid her hands down Dawn’s arms and clutched desperately at her hands. The look on her face made Dawn’s stomach tighten and she prepared herself for what looked to be bad news.

“It was hell, Dawnie, they sent him to hell.”

Stricken, Dawn could only stare at the girl. Willow saw it and rushed to explain all that she knew.

“Two creatures. Weird looking. They showed him something in the ground...I know I’m not explaining this well, but I didn’t see much until the end - then I saw way too much. It was something out of a nightmare, it made him sick - despair, I felt his despair - and then they opened the door for him and it was horrible. Worse than the picture in the ground. It was hell. I don’t know why he went in, he was resigned to something. Determined. There was such a flood of feelings I can’t explain them all. He just walked in and the doors closed. That’s all I saw.”

Dawn’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were flooded with tears. The tables turned and Willow moved to comfort the teen, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close.

“We’ll get him back. I swear to you. We can get him back now that we know where he is. I’m not giving up until I bring him back.”

No sooner had the words been spoken then the ground beneath them bucked once and started to tilt. Willow and Dawn broke apart and stared at each other, not comprehending what was happening, as they slid slightly along with it. Wide eyed and confused, they tried to stand, to gain purchase on the slick surface.

Just when Dawn made it to her feet and reached over to help Willow up, the tilting pitched back the other way...and everything in and of the nether realm started to shake.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the pounding that woke him, a ceaseless hammering that echoed in his throbbing head. It sounded like someone had taken a club to an empty oil drum and was intent on beating the thing into oblivion. Slamming at him from everywhere, surrounding him, it set up in his brain, making his eyeballs pulse achingly behind closed lids. It felt like the mother of all hangovers, multiplied times infinity.

Spike didn’t want to move, didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew where he was. He figured hell would sound quite a bit like this.

His whole body was on fire. Every part of him, inside and out, was one huge ouch. The storm that whisked him out of heaven had done a number on him before tossing him out, hurling him to where he now lay - sprawled on his stomach on a hard, rocky ground.

Doubting the banging would go away anytime soon - hell was all about the eternal torment, now, wasn’t it? - he braced himself before opening his eyes on what would be his home for the next...well, forever.

Groaning in pain despite his determination not to let the place get the better of him, he rolled over and pushed himself up on one elbow. When he finally convinced his brain that vision might be one of those necessary things, his eyes cracked open a little and he winced anew at the bashing sound around him.

What he saw - when he finally could - made him forget all about the head-splitting noise.

 

********************

 

One very nervous entity cast a surreptitious glance at the vibrating fury that was the warrior in front of him. Her expression hadn’t changed. Buffy stood at the top of the stairs, the empty room behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest. Belligerent and proud, she glared hard at the lone Oracle.

The sister was gone. On a mission. Buffy had demanded that she go to the Powers and get them to release Spike from heaven. As she had been quite sure that the Powers would be less than sympathetic to a vampire’s plight, she had ended up needing a little encouraging, so the brother was currently being held as a kind of hostage to the Slayer’s dictates.

It was the right card to play - the one thing that his sister truly cared about above and beyond her duties was her sibling. She had left grudgingly but hastily, impotent to do anything else to protect her brother.

He wasn’t afraid that Buffy would kill him, he knew her better than that, but it was well within her to hurt him quite a lot. And his kind weren’t known for a high pain threshold - they had never needed to be.

The brother sincerely hoped that the vampire had not yet been terminated. The Chosen One would not be pleased. Or if he had, that the Powers would bring him back from hell, as he knew they had done one other.

The vampire with a soul had been released, set back on his path by the Powers. Unlike the other realm, the Powers held dominion over hell. It would actually be easier, if quite a bit more damaging to the vampire, if he was already there. But it was the potential damage that worried the brother. He could only imagine what the Slayer would do then. And none of the things that sprang to mind boded well for him...or his sister.

He wondered what it was between this vampire and this Slayer that was so powerful that one would willingly give up his life for the safety of the world and the other would threaten that very safety, just to make sure the other survived. What could drive two individuals into taking actions that were diametrically opposed to their very natures?

Try as he might, he couldn’t fathom the reason.

And when his unquenchable curiosity, his nature, got the best of him, and he reached out his mind to the Chosen One to delve into her reasons, he couldn’t contain the utter surprise when he realized he couldn’t read a thing from her. Nothing. She was completely blocked off from his mental inquiry.

Buffy felt the soft, questioning caress tickle her mind and knew who was responsible. She watched with a half grin as the Oracle realized he no longer had access to her thoughts. And she felt a sense of righteous satisfaction when he gawked at her with an amusingly ridiculous, opened-mouth gape.

“You know,” she drawled, “in polite circles, one would ask a question out loud instead of dipping into a person’s mind uninvited. But then, polite isn’t exactly your forte, is it?”

The Oracles eyes swept the room, the floor at his feet, looking anywhere but at her. His confusion and fear were palpable. When he finally spoke, his words told Buffy just how rattled he really was.

“I-I d-do not understand. This is unexpected. You should n-not be able to b-block my mind. You should not be able to feel my mental touch. H-how is this possible?”

It was actually a good question, one that Buffy would like the answer to, herself. She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes at the flustered creature in front of her.

“Why don’t you tell me? You are one of the all-knowing duo, right? And while you’re at it, why don’t you astound me with the sense making this time. I know it’s a foreign concept but I bet if you try really hard, you can do it. And, hey, while I’m being the wowed and amazed girl, I’ll be less likely to hurt you.”

Wide-eyed and worried that she expected him to tell her things he didn’t understand himself, he stammered at her.

“I-I do n-not know. I-I s-swear to you. I do not know. I can only tell you what I know.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, fed up with the entity. As much as it irritated her, she couldn’t help but believe him. He was too scared to tell her anything but the truth. “So tell me what you do know, then.”

Grateful at the reprieve from possible bodily injury, he rushed to fill her in on all the details. “Your time in the realm changed you, gave you a balance that had not been there before. It is a balance that the Powers, through the trials set forth for you, had been fostering, but it came about much quicker than originally foreseen...and has evidenced itself in a much different way than they had intended, though that is hardly of importance now.”

The Oracle was so intent on spilling out the words as fast as possible, he didn’t notice the tension that went through the Slayer at that last bit. He just rambled on, relieved that she was still standing several feet away instead of gripping him around the throat as she had his sister.

“This balance has allowed you full access to your powers. You are now stronger and better than you have ever been. I am sure you feel the difference, I would imagine you could not help but feel it.”

Buffy nodded purposely but didn’t say anything. She felt it all right, but she had no intention of telling that little green and gold worm the first thing about it. It was for her alone, and it was glorious. It was victory. It was peace. And there was a clarity the likes of which Buffy had never known before.

Ever since she felt that swirling power descend for the first time in the Oracle’s chamber, she was awash in an indescribable blend of both separateness and togetherness. It was a contradiction but there was no other way to explain it. It was as if each part of her had been distilled and separated even as a fraction of both had been blended together in a blessedly new way. No longer muddy and painful as it had been before her death, but clear. The two sides now worked in conjuncture, complimenting each other instead of fighting each other.

She had never felt as perfectly whole as she did now. As if the internal struggle she had warred with for five long years had finally been resolved and both sides, Buffy and Slayer, girl and Chosen One, had won.

She wondered what the Oracle meant when he said that the Powers had intended something different. This amazing feeling she now had made her want to know what they had intended.

Before she could ask, there was a brief flash of light in the archway in front of her. When her eyes readjusted, Buffy could see that the sister had returned. Questions would have to wait.

At the look on the sister’s face, the stunned and horrified and totally bewildered look on the green and gold face of the female Oracle that had been so high and mighty not that long ago, Buffy’s Slayer sense shot into overdrive.

And she knew, from deep inside her she knew, that nothing would be the same for her ever again.

The velvet cloak of power wrapped itself even more tightly around her. Tingling with the energy, she sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. Her body trembled even as her stomach dropped to her knees.

There was nothing on the sister’s face that heralded any good news for Spike. Or for the Slayer that loved him.

When she saw the sister’s expression, an expression that was telling her things that she would never accept, it hit her. Buffy finally realized it. Finally saw it. Finally stopped denying it. The knowledge, the acceptance - the swamping emotion - crashed down on her in a wave of relief and agony all at once, almost knocking her to her knees with its intensity.

She loved Spike.

And no one - no Powers, no Oracles, no one - was going to take him away from her.

Not even realizing it, she snarled low in her throat. It was a primeval response to the threat that was facing her. In two steps she had the shaking entity gripped by the shoulders and lifted slightly off the ground.

“Tell me!” She yelled. “What is it? What did they tell you? Where is he?!”

The sister heard her, felt the pinching grip on her arms, but couldn’t answer her. She was too wrapped up in her own confusion and horror. Instinctively reaching out her mind to her brother for help, she heard him gasp as she sent him the truth about what had become of the vampire. Knowing that as he saw it, and when he told the Slayer what he saw, they were most likely both going to be killed.

Buffy heard the brother’s gasp as well, and her head shot around to pin him with a deadly glare as she threw the useless female away from her in disgust, not caring a whole hell of a lot when she fell back into the wall and grunted in pain and surprise.

Stalking to the brother with predatory intent, she watched as he processed what his sister was telling him mentally. Unlike the female, he seemed resigned to what he saw. Or maybe he was resigned to what Buffy was going to do to them when he told her what he know knew. Either way, he managed to look at her with something akin to calmness in his eyes.

“Spike is gone.”

He didn’t even flinch when her hand snaked out and gripped him around the throat. He didn’t cower under her slicing words.

“What do you mean he’s gone? You mean he’s not in heaven? Is he already in hell? Tell me now, damn it! And don’t even think about holding out on me or I swear to God, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”

With each question, each rage and fear filled demand, her hand flexed tighter and tighter around his neck and he had to gasp a bit for air. Still, his calm never faltered.

“Not in heaven. Not in hell. He is gone.”

With a tremendous show of will, Buffy brought her fury under control. There was nothing she could do about the fear that ate at her. She wanted to hurt the oddly colored creature, she really did, but her need for information overrode the need to see him in as much pain as she was. She let go of his throat abruptly, so abruptly he staggered at the release, and stepped back to give him some breathing room. Not out of any sense of courtesy, but out of the demanding necessity to get the story from him as fast as possible.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

The Oracle sighed. This was in no way going to be an easy telling. He was still trying to grasp what his sister had sent to him. This was something that had never happened before.

“The Powers had been watching the vam...Spike progress through the realm. They were able to view but in no way interfere. After you were removed, they watched the realm gather its forces to destroy him, as was expected. He should have been sent directly to the realm you know as hell. He was not. They are...unsure of what happened. You have to understand, they are the Powers, they have the ability to track every creature through every dimension that exists. Regardless of whether the creature is alive or dead - they have that ability. That...technology, if you will. They cannot locate Spike. He is gone. And they have no idea where he is, or how this could have happened. They are as confused and upset by this development as you are.”

Shrieking agony born from loss howled through Buffy’s soul but she didn’t break eye contact with the Oracle. In a hoarse whisper she told him, “Somehow, I highly doubt that is even remotely possible.”

It was stabbing, the pain. Hacking into her grotesquely, making her physically ill. She didn’t know what to do. If the Powers couldn’t find him, didn’t know where he was, what could she do? What was left for the Slayer to do?

Buried under the weight of her torment, she stumbled back a step before collapsing to her knees. Her thin but powerful arms wrapped around her stomach and she held on for dear life, clutching herself as she rocked against wave after wave of sorrow and grief. She was beyond tears, beyond sobs; the feelings were so strong they numbed her to her surroundings.

Buffy didn’t even feel the ground under her shift slightly, or tremble a bit as she knelt there. She didn’t see the waters in the shallow pool in front of her start to froth and jump erratically. She didn’t see the Oracles look at each other in surprise and fear as the pillars in the room started to sway dangerously.

And when the room tilted crazily, bucking and falling around her, all she felt was the loss of the man that was more than a man in much the same way that she was more than just a girl. And the heartache that came from not having the time to tell him that as she accepted both sides of herself, so too did she accept him.

And the tearing, searing, blinding pain caused by the bleak truth that she would never get to tell him that she loved him.

 

*******************

 

When Xander pulled Giles’ car back into the driveway and got out, he saw that the Watcher hadn’t moved an inch from where they’d left him. They’d been gone about thirty minutes and he hadn’t moved. A worried frown set on Xander’s face when he saw how haggard and tired Giles looked. He sighed.

Xander didn’t know if he could survive another loss like the one that had hit him when Buffy died, he was sure that Giles couldn’t.

Pasting a smile on his face, he hid his fear and doubt deep in the dark recesses of himself, recesses that he only looked at late at night, when he was alone.

“The cavalry has arrived, chock full of magickal spell making goodness. Any change?”

Giles didn’t even turn and look at him. “No. The energy appears to be sustaining itself quite effectively.”

Anya walked up next to Xander. “So, what do we do now? Ju- ”

She didn’t get to finish her question; it was cut off abruptly by the rolling ground underneath her feet.

The gang struggled to stay upright as the trembling subsided. They breathed a sigh of relief. A small earthquake was hardly enough to blink at after everything that they had been through and were going through. They exchanged sheepish grins, each one feeling their heartbeats returning to normal, embarrassed that a quake as small as that one had even effected them at all.

None of them were prepared when the next one hit, and the earth rose and fell alarmingly, dropping each one of them from where they stood. Exclamations of fear and horror were torn from all of them.

“Shit!” Yelled Xander as he bounced painfully along the pitching ground, railing against this new bit of nastiness, cursing the heavens, the powers, whatever was toying with them so unmercifully, “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!!”

No one else said anything, they were too busy trying to stay out of the way of falling electrical polls and swaying trees. If it was a joke, if someone was indeed kidding them, it was by no means funny.

 

********************

 

It wasn’t the astonishingly beautiful landscape. It wasn’t the snow-capped mountains in the distance or the lush green fields filled with flowers off to his left, cut through by the bubbling water of a small stream. It wasn’t even the shockingly blue sky or the sunshine beaming down on him warmly - and non-fatally - that had him staring slack-jawed and stunned.

Nope. None of that. What had Spike’s brain frantically scrambling to catch up with what his wide, demon-gold eyes were telling him was the positively adorable little girl that was sitting, cross-legged, not more than two feet from where he had been thrown, staring at him calmly and completely fearlessly.

Pixie curls of golden sunlight, a cherub’s face, button nose, and an angelic smile of amusement sat atop a tiny little body clad in well worn cut-off jean shorts and a lavender tank top with a picture of a...rearing unicorn of all things. Small, adorable bare feet peeked out from under her knees. Spike wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw her toenails painted with glitter nail polish.

She couldn’t have been any older than seven. Or, she couldn’t have been if it wasn’t for her eyes and the fact that there was no doubt in the vampire’s mind that the creature in front of him, this amazingly modern looking Shirley Temple type being, was in no way human - nor had she ever been human.

Her eyes weren’t a single color, they were a rainbow of all colors, and the colors were changing, swirling around even as he watched in wonder. They were huge, like small saucers in a precious face. And they were about as ancient as anything Spike had ever seen before. They were eyes that had seen at least seven eons, not seven years.

That, taken with the not human thing - she couldn’t be human and still be giving off a pinkish glow like she did, right? - had Spike seriously questioning just how hard a bump on the noggin he’d taken. Brain damage was the only possible explanation.

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to stop the weird tricks they were playing on him. The bubbling, joyful sound of her giggles made him jump and he had no choice but to stare yet again. The picture hadn’t faded, the channel hadn’t changed, she was still there.

Wherever there was. One thing Spike knew, it wasn’t hell.

“Hi, Spike.” One dainty little hand reached up and waved enthusiastically at him. A perfect little row of baby teeth flashed as she grinned precociously. “Don’t worry, silly. We’re real.”

 _We’re?_ The use of the plural had Spike craning his neck around, looking for the others that the non-child referred to. As near as Spike could tell, they were alone. No one else was within sight - and his vampire sight went quite the distance, too.

The creature giggled again at the frantic search. “No, no, no. You don’t understand.”

Spike turned back to the little girl, not quite ready to speak yet, and lifted a brow questioningly.

Speaking patiently, and gesturing to herself with a careless wave, she said, “We. As in the us that is right here.”

_Okay, Spike, must have been a mite worse than a bump on the head, seein’ little glowin’ chippies and what all. What’s worse than brain damage, mate?_

The being saw the confusion on the vampire’s face and smiled sweetly. “It’s okay, Spike. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that we’re here for a reason.”

The pain was finally receding to tolerable levels but the banging continued endlessly. And his temper was bubbling under his skin. As much as he wasn’t overjoyed with the idea that he was fated to spend the next good while burning in hell, he was displeased when strange, child-sized surprises of this magnitude dropped into his path. He hated it. Hated everything about it.

There was a sarcastic sneer in his voice when he finally spoke. “Reason. Right. Couldn’t let good ole Spike go on to his eternal torment without a few more pokes at the demon, eh? What are you, the bite-sized send off committee? Givin’ the vamp a view of what he’s gonna be missin’?”

Frustrated and angry at the assumption that he was still being played by the realm - even if it looked more like heaven should look now than it did before - and wincing with each pounding blast, Spike snarled. “And what in the bloody hell is that racket?!”

Appearing unperturbed by the harsh question, the little girl smiled widely. “First, this isn’t heaven. Pretty, though, isn’t it? And we’re glad you asked. That’s one of the reasons we’re here. But there are lots of reasons, so it’s not tops on the list.”

Spike glared at her. He was not amused. Furious...confused...not amused. “And just who the hell are you, pet?”

The little thing giggled again, not even slightly afraid of his menacing demeanor and cold, smooth question.

“Sorry. We can’t really tell you that. Well...okay, so that’s not completely true. We could tell you, but we won’t. You wouldn’t believe us.”

Spike snorted in derision. “Oh, now, why don’t you let me be the judge of that, luv. You’d be bloody surprised at just what I am capable of believin’ at this point. And while you go on ‘bout who you are, why not enlighten me as to where we are. Save me askin’ twice.”

Tiny shoulders lifted dramatically in a deep sigh only innocent children were capable of pulling off, but she wasn’t a child. And Spike doubted the innocence, no matter her appearance.

“Okay. But don’t say we didn’t warn you. We’re All. And you’re nowhere.”

Well, she was right. That made no sense whatsoever to the rattled vampire. But he’d be damned if he’d let her…them...whatever…know that. _Stupid chit probably did it on purpose, too._

The entities stared at him, waiting for the next question, feeling it rattling around in his head - though to act on it before being spoken would be unspeakably rude. When he just grimaced and forced his game face back and away, looking around again in a mixture of surprise and wonder - and a touch of fear - they smiled wisely.

They were all there, the wonders that were them, though he was only being shown one merged vessel for easier communication. Explaining to him just what the vessel was, and who they are, would take far longer and be largely unimportant in the end.

They were pleased that he didn’t want to admit his ignorance. It made their job easier. They were also pleased that he was following true to form, choosing - making a conscious choice - to act with his humanity instead of his demon. It was further proof of his remarkableness.

“Reasons,” Spike finally said, refusing to give in to the obvious need for clarification of what she told him. He wasn’t going to ask her straight out, but there might be a way to ask around it, get some answers in a roundabout kind of way. “What reasons? And... not that I’m complainin’...but why am I not a burnin’ pyre of Spike? Generally speakin’, vampires tend to have a nasty allergic reaction to sunny rays.”

They knew what he was doing. It amused them. The decision was made among them to explain the where a little more - the ‘who’ would never be able to be explained in ways he could understand. That was too immense for him to ever hope to grasp.

“It’s not real sunlight, Spike. None of what you’re seeing is real. We told you - we’re nowhere. In a place that doesn’t exist. We’re...in between realities. And we’re here, we brought you here, because of what you have done for one of our children.”

That got Spike’s attention. His eyes widened and he sputtered in surprise. “One of your...children? I haven’t done anythin’ to any children. I can’t. I’m a neutered vamp, can’t hurt anythin’...well, except demons - oh, bloody hell. You’re not one of that hell bitch’s kin, are you? ‘Cuz I won’t be apologizin’ for how that went down. You may as well just send me on my merry way right now.”

“No, no.” Tinkling laughter bubbled over him much in the same way the creek nearby bubbled over the rocks in the streambed. “You’re funny. We said what you did for one of our children, not to one of our children. And, please, as if we would claim any relationship with that pathetic Glory creature. No, Spike, we’re talking about Buffy. What you have done for Buffy.”

The adult words mixed with the childish delight created an odd cadence of dialogue, surreal. But the minute the entity...entities...mentioned Buffy’s name, all of Spike’s motion, all of his thoughts, came to a screeching halt.

In a serious tone, and looking at the childish body through narrowed eyes, he said, “What are you, then, the Powers? Those mysterious Powers that Be that I’ve heard so much about? Why don’t you sod off with the horse and pony show, girl. I’ve no doubt you’re not what you appear to be. And if you are the Powers, you and I are gonna to go a round or two - just so there’s no mistake. I’m thinkin’ I may just have a good day in all this after all.”

He didn’t vamp out. If this creature was one of the beings that had started this whole mess, had needed Buffy to give up her rightful place in heaven, he was going to fight them, not with the demon, but with the man. He would die, no doubt about that, but they would know what they did was wrong. They’d bloody well know. He was through playing.

The entities heard the tone, saw his belief in what was right, and his disgust for the Powers - a disgust they just so happened to share. He was enraged, but he didn’t give in to the impulses that were throbbing through him. He was remarkable. But he was also right; it was time to get down to business.

In an aged voice that belied the youthful exterior, the combined entities told the vampire what he wanted to know.

“We’re not the Powers, vampire. Relax. We currently hold them in just as much contempt as you do. We are All. We are the creators of dimensions. Creators of universal realities. We are the beginning of everything. The Powers have been beneficial in policing the realities, and we have allowed them to continue in their rolls. In truth, they are not even aware of our existence. Their cause was our cause for more millennia than we can count. But they have become lax in their duties of late, and arrogant in their assumptions that they are infallible, as is evidenced by the current situation you find yourself in. We have taken it upon ourselves to step in, make our presence known - in a manner of speaking - and correct what could have been a grievous error.”

Spike’s mind was reeling. He wondered briefly just how many shocks a vampire could take before his head exploded. As the entities in front of him seemed disinclined to stop speaking, he hoped he hadn’t reached critical mass just yet.

“The Slayer is not their creation, she is ours. She is not their warrior, she is ours. They have perverted the role she was meant to play. And we don’t mean just Buffy, we have noticed a change towards our Slayers over the past several centuries, but when we Chose Buffy, we gave her more than the others. Made her more pure in her power. She should have been nurtured by the Powers, but instead she was beset by trials whose purpose was to strip from her everything that we had given her. They were under the mistaken impression that this would establish the balance that was needed to access her full potential. Unfortunately for them, they never once realized that she was different. And we made a mistake in letting it progress this far. We are now correcting that mistake by bringing you here.”

“Wait,” Spike interrupted, confused. “Not that I’d want to be defending those poncy buggers, but the two I spoke to, Oracles they were, they kept saying that Buffy was special. That she was _The_ Chosen One. They knew that she was different.”

“You misunderstand,” the entities said, not unkindly, “or perhaps we misspoke. They knew she was _The_ Chosen One, the Keeper of the Balance, but they never knew what was necessary for this one to reach her full potential. They tried to fit her into an outdated mold that had worked for millennia on others with less potential. They believed that the fastest way to achieve balance between to things...between the Slayer and the girl...was to remove one of them from the equation.”

Looking back on all that had been sacrificed by the Slayer that he loved in the past several years, Spike nodded, seeing the pattern and now recognizing it as an ultimately nefarious plan by ‘higher’ beings to get their way in the shortest...and, oh yeah, most painful manner. He hated them even more - if that was possible.

“And that’s where you come in, Spike. The soulless vampire with an infinite capacity for love, despite your nature.”

Spike was surprised. These entities knew him. Really knew him. And he squirmed a bit under their scrutiny.

“The irony is that the Powers got what they were working towards. As soon as Buffy died and entered the realm, she knew balance. But the part of her that was sacrificed was not the girl, as they had hoped. It was the Slayer. So you were tapped. That’s when you caught our attention. Then you did something that no one in the realities expected. You gave her back the Slayer, but Buffy didn’t lose her other side. In that one instant, in that horrible thing you did to reawaken the Slayer - that almost got you killed, by the way, the realm was going to send you to a quick demise right then and there, we restrained it - you gave her the balance that we had always wanted for her. She has evolved into the proper blend of Slayer and Buffy. And she is no longer their warrior; even now she fights against them. She is ours in total. Our child. The Keeper of the Balance as she was intended to be.”

The best...hell, the only response Spike had to all this information that was being thrust onto his shoulders so unexpectedly was, Holy Shit. He was just wise enough to prevent the words from slipping past his lips.

Floored, stunned into silence, he just gaped at the pretty non-child in front of him. It was just too much for him to take in all at once. And while he sat, quiet and humbled by the immense reality he was being made aware of, a reality that meant that Buffy was even further out of his reach than he had even guessed, the face of the angelic form in front of him smiled. There was sympathy in her incredible eyes but it was overlaid with humor. He realized, dryly, that they too had a front row seat in his brain. Sod it all. _Now, why am I not surprised. What...is there a bloody book with step-by-step instructions to get into my head or somethin’? ‘Mindreadin’ Spike for Dummies’?_

“She’s the same as she’s always been, Spike. Don’t think that the girl you love is in any way different because of this new balance. Or...wait...that’s not quite true, either. She is quite different. But in only the best possible ways. We think you’ll be pleased.”

Now that was just cruel. And the cruelty sliced into him as a huge surprise. It was out of character for such a tiny, cute looking creature. How could he be pleased? He would never get to marvel at the differences that are Buffy. He would never get to study the newness, learning her as he had learned her before. That was denied to him. He glanced down at his clasped hands in his lap, sorrow choking him.

They felt it, and were surprised by the flood of feeling. Then they remembered that they hadn’t told him. Oh dear. Breaking their own rule not to act on a creature’s thoughts unless those thoughts were verbalized, they spoke to him.

“Oh, Spike. We forgot to mention it, we thought you’d know.”

He didn’t raise his head. Sighing, disinterested in what they thought he didn’t know, he asked anyway - as much to give him something to say as anything. “What didn’t I bleedin’ know? That I’m not goin’ back? Sorry to disappoint, luv. I knew that.”

“No, silly. That you are going back. That’s why we stepped in and brought you here.”

Spike’s head shot up, surprised wonder and disbelief etched hauntingly on his face. He thought they just told him he was going back, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed - that would be beyond painful.

“It’s true. You are. You’re needed there, Spike. Buffy’s balance is tenuous right now. Especially right now. And believe it or not, you are an integral part of that balance. Mostly because you are a man - but a little because you’re a vampire.”

Spike felt hope fade a little, and couldn’t believe what he was about to say. But it was Buffy, his Buffy, and she deserved the best. Spike knew she deserved happiness with the vampire that she loved. “Not me, then. Much as I hate to say it, she’s suffered enough. There’s another...like me...loves her like I do. And he’s a vampire with a soul. She loves him. She can be happy with him. Let her have him.”

The entities were moved, yet again, by the vampire’s willingness to sacrifice his own wants and desires for their child’s. “Angel. Yes, we know he is a vampire, and we know that he loves her. But there are two problems with your gracious sacrifice. One is, in fact, the very soul that he has.”

“Spike, it’s easy to do the right thing when you’re beleaguered by the consequences of doing the wrong thing. There’s still honor in following the just path, but Angel’s road to redemption is longer for the very reason that it pains him to not be on it. That’s not one of the burdens you bear. You don’t have a soul, but chose to do the right thing, regardless of the fact that you would feel no guilt in not doing it. In fact, you feel worse than you would’ve if you had done nothing. You saw the world that was to come if Buffy didn’t go back, your mind told you it was a bad thing, and it overrode your heart telling you that Buffy was better off where she was - despite the fact that you don’t have a soul, and wouldn’t feel the world’s pain as one who does. That’s true redemption - as much as we know it pains you to take it.”

There was a sly smile on the entities’ mouth. Spike shuddered at just how well they did know him, but he was fascinated by the words they spoke. Hope was, once again, rearing its treacherous head.

“Plus, that soul of Angel’s is insufficient in dealing with the fiery nature of the girl that you know. And then there’s the second thing...the other problem we mentioned...well, in truth, we just don’t like him as much as we like you. And we’re not the only ones who feel as such.”

He almost smiled at hearing that he was favored over the poof by these entities.

“And that banging you heard when you first arrived?”

That was odd, until they mentioned it, Spike hadn’t even realized that the banging had stopped. He was too engrossed in the things he was being told.

“That was another one of the reasons we spared you, as we mentioned. What you were hearing was a friend of yours, throwing herself into the wall between the nether realm and heaven, trying everything she knew to get in to get you out. You have amassed quite an entourage of humans willing to sacrifice themselves for you. And more willing to stand up and defend you. That’s impressive.”

Spike was really confused. He had no idea who the entities were referring to. “What do you mean, friend? What friend. What’re you on about, then?”

“Willow. The witch. She did a spell to follow your trail in the nether realm, hoping to get an idea of where you went. It was quite dangerous - she merged with your aura trail. Turned out a little different than she had anticipated, the spell went a little off for her, but we needed her to understand just what you were capable of in the emotions department. She’ll let the rest of them know. They wouldn’t just take Dawn’s word for it; they mistakenly assumed her month-long search for you was misplaced grief over her sister. Willow is unhurt, Dawn took it upon herself to go into the nether realm and get her. She is no longer connected with your aura.”

Spike didn’t know what to say. Wait...yeah, he did. Although shouting was closer to the truth.

“A-A MONTH! A bleedin’ month? Are you daft? I’ve only been on this sadistic little romp for a few days - what do you mean, a bloody month?”

One tiny shoulder raised in a casual shrug. “Time is relative. It changes from one realm to another, it is not a constant.” She pointed to the brook behind her. “It is more like that small stream right there - not one straight current, but eddy’s and ripples that travel at a much different pace than what appears to be the whole.”

“Do you mean to tell me, Dawn’s had the Wiccas lookin’ for me for a whole month?” Suddenly, he was quite proud of his Nibblet. And touched at her level of compassion for him - even after he failed in his role as her protector. He loved her just as much as he loved the sister. And he was going back! He would see her again!

The entities just nodded, a wide grin on the vessel’s face as they felt his joy.

“But we’re not allowing the Powers to control this return. We’re taking away their intended plan for returning the Chosen One, as well.”

A devilish gleam kindled to life in Spike’s eyes. Right now, anything that put a crimp in the Powers plan was to be considered a good thing. _Bloody wankers, the lot of ‘em. Messin’ with my girl like they have._

“Just what are you plannin’ for the ripe bunch of bastards? And what can I do to help?”

They smiled, amused at the vampire’s glee. “We’re going to send you back in their current reality. Twenty-six days after Buffy died. We aren’t allowing the Powers to set back time. That would undo the work we’ve done in developing not only the witch, but Dawn as well. The whole group, in fact. What do you call them? The Slayerettes? Funny. We always knew you were funny. Once you’re there, they will be blocked from sending the Slayer back to that night because it would create a paradox. That’s another of the many reasons you are needed to go back. The group will need to start from this particular point of their development to assist the Chosen One in the next battle that’s to come. And they’ll need you to do it.”

Spike got to his feet and clapped his hands together. “Right, then. I’m ready and willin’. Who’re we takin’ on this time? The legions of hell themselves?”

Spike saw the serious expression fall heavily on the mite of a girl. It was the first time he’d seen her look less than precocious.

“The groundwork has been laid, Spike. We’re going to open a portal for you - but this one is a little different than what you went through with the Dialetyth. Or the one we used to bring you here. It is a portal between realities, not just between realms. We’re afraid there isn’t much we can do; it will be a bit painful. And the effects will be felt in all dimensions. Undoubtedly it will shake things up a bit.”

Spike was a little curious as to why they were avoiding his question, but he was too thrilled with the going back to let it bother him. He didn’t even care that it was going to hurt. What was a little pain after all he’d been through? The harsh reality sunk in though, when they finally did answer his question. And he wished they hadn’t.

“But that will work in our favor. It will allow us to announce our presence to the beings that will hunt us - or try to hunt us - when they realize we exist. The battle that is coming, Spike, will be against the Powers that Be, themselves.”

As the vampire felt the pull of the entities moving him towards a rippling wave in the air, he had one last thought before slipping through and into darkness.

_Oh, bloody hell._


	15. Chapter 15

Dawn and Willow finally made it to shaky but upright positions. They clung to each other for support and balance as the tremors continued to shift the ground under their feet. Ground in the nether realm that shouldn’t be able to shift.

“Willow! What’s going on? What is this?”

The very confused witch, still rocked by her ordeal with Spike’s aura, just shook her head, not having any answers to give the teen.

“I’m thinking not something that’s a good, though, right?”

Willow met Dawn’s eyes for a second, though thanks to the shaking, the picture was kind of fuzzy. “Big not good. Huge not good. We’ve got to get out of here. Now. Sooner than now would be even better.”

“Can you get us out? Giles said you’d have to get us out.”

Nodding, teeth rattling, Willow pulled herself together enough to remember what she needed to do. With the knowledge came self-assurance, and she grinned a bit.

“That I can do. Hold on. We’re going to have to follow the path you took here. I have to use you, or I won’t be able to get out, so whatever you do, don’t let go of me. It’s either that, or merge with Spike again. And, ya know? Not something I’m anxious to be trying again any time soon. In fact, never.”

Dawn knew how traumatic it had been for Willow, merging with Spike, and she reached out and hugged the surprised witch tightly. Just knowing that Willow had been willing to risk trying something so dangerous to help her reinforced the belief that Willow was one of her favorite people. And since now wasn’t really the time to go into that in depth, a hug would have to suffice. As soon as they were firmly back on un-shaky ground, she’d tell Willow just what her sacrifice meant to her.

Willow hugged Dawn back just as tightly, taking comfort in the girl that had come into the nether realm after her. She chanted even as they maintained their tight grip on each other. The air swirled around the pair as they were pulled back down the path that Dawn had made.

It was working. This was something Willow was quite familiar with. Getting out of the nether realm had always been her favorite part of all of those spells she and Tara had done - what seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

With a harsh jolt and a twisting sensation it was over. Willow opened her eyes, her real eyes, and sucked in a quick breath at what she saw. Beside her, Dawn echoed the sound.

In front of them, stretching from the floor to the ceiling was a wall of crackling energy.

Surprised and horrified just didn’t cover it and their hands broke apart unconsciously. As they did, the wall collapsed into the more familiar for Dawn, just as shocking for Willow, mini tornado that had laid waste to the room around them.

Willow grimaced, frantically meeting Dawn’s gaze. The young girl didn’t look terribly surprised. Someone had some explaining to do - but now was hardly the time.

It was unsettling, coming back from the nether realm. And this time was even more so for Willow, as everything that she was, mind, aura, essence, had been savagely separated and pulled in. It took her a long, stunned minute to realize that it was her magicks that were powering the wind. It took even longer to reconnect with that part of her, to regain control. When she finally did - not knowing what exactly had happened - the spinning vortex around them dwindled down to nothing. With little less than a caress of warm breeze, it disappeared.

And that’s when they noticed the ground underneath them was shaking and the house was swaying around them.

“What now?” cried Dawn, confused and worried that the safety they had been counting on hadn’t materialized as easily as they had materialized from the nether realm.

“I don’t know. Move, Dawnie, move - into a doorway - go!” The girls scrambled to their feet and hurtled down the hall.

As they huddled in the doorway leading into the kitchen, the ground continued to roll and pitch.

“This can’t be good,” said Willow, when it didn’t seem to be ending. “Shaking ground generally not one of those boding well things in Sunnydale. And if this is also what we were feeling in the nether realm, then we’re talking outside my experience - way out. Out of the galaxy, out.”

Dawn clung to the wall for support. She was scared. She wanted Giles. She wanted to know what was going on. “I don’t get it! Where is everyone?” A low rumbling sound was vibrating in her chest. She didn’t like it.

Things were falling off walls, down stairs, out of the cabinets in the kitchen. There was chaos all around them. It was a cacophonous din of destruction. Then, out of nowhere, came a loud thud from the dining room that drowned out the rest for a brief second, followed by the sound of wood being splintered and broken.

The earth stopped moving at last.

Willow and Dawn exchanged wide-eyed but relieved looks as they straightened and stood on finally firm ground.

“Wow. Okay,” said Willow, “that’s more like it. I like the ground much better when it’s not doing the hokey pokey underneath me. Now, let’s find Giles and the gang. We need to find out what’s with the shaking all about.”

At Dawn’s questioning look, Willow reached up and brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder.

“Yes, Dawnie, we’re also going to find out what needs to be done to get Spike out of hell. I told you, we’ll find him. I promise.”

Dawn was a little embarrassed that her first thoughts after the hubbub died down were all about getting Spike back, but that was her goal, her mission. She shouldn’t feel embarrassed that she was following her heart. “Okay. Right. Good. And I know you can do it, Willow. I believe in you. And thank you. For everything.”

Willow hugged her quickly again and grabbed her hand as they moved out of the doorway.

As they made their way down the hall, stepping gingerly around several pieces of miscellaneous debris, they didn’t take the time to go see what had happened in the dining room. They hadn’t forgotten about the loud thud and the sound of wood splintering apart, but finding the rest of their friends was currently tops on the to do list. Assessing damage could come later.

If they had checked it out, they would have seen him.

They would have seen the vampire that they were both so determined to find. A vampire that lay, unconscious, amid the rubble of what was left of the dining room table.

 

********************

 

Buffy had come out of her grief induced stupor when the rocking in the Oracles’ chamber knocked her off her knees and sent her sprawling. With an instinctive roll, she rose to her feet, arms outstretched for balance. Her Slayer sense was cloaked tightly around her, and she could now feel every vibration coming from the stone steps she perched so precariously on.

“What the hell is going on?”

She looked around and found the two Oracles, clinging together in the archway, obviously terrified beyond rational thought.

Making her way over to them, she grabbed the brother’s arm and shook it.

“What is this? What’s happening?”

He looked at her but didn’t speak. Buffy realized, belatedly, that he was trying to reach her mentally, probably out of instinct. Concentrating, she tried to open her mind to his thoughts. She got more than just his thoughts, though; she felt his confusion and fear as he just stared at her. Then she finally heard the words.

_“The Powers...they are calling us...something has happened but we cannot go to them. The portal is closed to us. We do not know why. They are calling us and we cannot go.”_

Buffy spun around. There was nothing in the barren room that could help her. Her mind whirled. Loss, anger, love, all of the emotions she was feeling were intensifying her Slayer side, the tingling in her body rose to an almost painful level.

And then it stopped. The room stopped shaking, the pillars settled back in their rightful positions, and the pool of water in front of her...kept frothing and bubbling.

In fact, it did more than froth and bubble, the water churned and agitated. Like a mini ocean suffering the wrath of a hurricane.

“Would someone please explain to me what, exactly, is happening here?”

Buffy may as well not have asked, for all the response she got. The Oracles weren’t likely to provide much in the way of explanations, either; they were still huddled pathetically in the closed portal to their precious Powers. Buffy stepped forward cautiously and peered down into the Waters of Time and Space.

Images flashed in the waves, disjointed and surreal images. Nothing recognizable, nothing decipherable. It was as if a movie was playing on a moving, broken screen. But it was more than just one movie, more than dozens of movies, playing all at once and reflecting off hundreds of individual watery peaks.

She couldn’t look away. It made no sense to her, to her mind, none of the images were identifiable, but it was mesmerizing.

Slowly, as Buffy watched, the water calmed. The images kept flashing, but it was less a multitude of movies, broken and cut up by the waves, and more pages of a book, flipping past at an incredible rate. Until it opened to one lone page and held its position.

As clear as glass, as flat and unmoving as a stagnant pond, the image was distinct and recognizable.

Buffy felt tears spring to her eyes as she realized what she was seeing. Her heart soared. Everything that was in her cried out in deep relief. The velvet cloak of her power caressed her mind, body, and soul, hugging her with comforting warmth.

“Spike!”

She saw him. He was...well, hurt...and unconscious...but he was alive! And he was in her dining room. Or...what was left of her dining room?

Spinning around to the Oracles, she lifted her head and stared down her nose at the pair. “See. I told you. Not as easy to kill as you might think. And if I’m not mistaken, those Powers of yours need to upgrade their...what did you call it? Their technology.” Her eyes took on a dangerous glint and her voice sharpened to deadly intensity. She was glorious in her power. “Now. I don’t want to hear another word from the two of you. In my head or anywhere else. Send me back. You brought me here to send me back, DO IT!”

The brother and sister were shell-shocked, this was beyond highly irregular. As the first to regain some semblance of control but not believing what the Slayer had told him, the brother shuffled forward as if expecting the ground to start moving again and peered into the now eerily calm Waters.

 _“It is true, sister. The vampire has been returned to her realm. I do not know how, or from where, but he is there. What do we do?_ ”

Near hysteria, the sister practically screeched in his mind. _“DO?! Send her back! Why are you even questioning? Send her back. I am finished with her and her odd friends. I want nothing more to do with any of them! This has been quite a distressing situation. I want her gone. Please, brother. For me. Send her back.”_

_“But, sister, I cannot. She was supposed to return to her body shortly after the fall. After the vampire was summoned. With his return, that is no longer possible. The Pow-”_

_“GRANT THE CHOSEN ONES’ WISHES. SEND HER BACK IN THEIR PRESENT TIME. WE WILL RESTORE HER. COME TO US. WE ARE WAITING.”_

Both Oracles’ heads snapped up in surprise. There was no ignoring the Powers or their demands. Something very unusual must be happening to be contacted in such a manner. Usually they just send a wordless, beckoning call. This was highly irregular. And it scared the brother. Reality as he knew it was changing, he could feel it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He didn’t even understand it.

Without another word, he turned to the scornful creature in front of him and nodded once. He gathered his powers and sent her back to her world. Set her back on her path...whatever that may be now.

Buffy disappeared from the room.

The brother doubted even the Powers themselves had any idea of just what he was releasing on the world. For the first time in his existence, he questioned the wisdom of their decision.

And he didn’t know why he was so sure that the Slayer, while still being a warrior, would no longer be theirs to guide.

 

********************

 

It was Tara that noticed it first. She sat up, rubbing at a sore spot on her head, not really remembering what she’d hit it on, and saw that the energy that had been keeping them out of the house was no longer glowing tauntingly in the doorway.

She didn’t have time to mention it before Giles stood up, brushing at his jacket, and caught the non-glowing front entrance out of the corner of his eye. Fearing the worst, fearing the quake that rattled them had been the last straw and his surrogate daughter was hurt, maybe dead, his heart lodged in his throat and clung there, preventing words from having any possibility of escape.

The normally dignified man launched himself up the stairs leading to the porch and burst into the hallway. He almost buckled under the weight of grief when he saw the living room empty, but a sound from the hallway on his right spun him around.

Out of the shadowy darkness, two figures, two young women, shaken but remarkably unhurt, emerged. And sometime after seeing that Willow and Dawn were both alive and back in this realm, Giles’ heart slipped back down where it belonged, and for good measure, started beating again.

Dawn choked back a sob when she saw Giles’ face, then threw herself at him. His arms wrapped tightly around her and they rocked back and forth for a little while, drawing comfort from one another.

It was a tremendous feeling for Giles, having Dawn safe in his arms, and he leaned his head down and rested it on the top of hers. The effusive display of loving emotions may have been out of character for the mature young woman she’d become, but in no way out of character for a fourteen year old girl. And he would take it. She was alive, unhurt, and he would take every opportunity offered to let her know how much that meant to him.

The grounding she would get for attempting such a foolhardy course of action could come much later.

He looked at Willow, who was standing a step away, looking just as shaken as Dawn had. There was warmth in his expression when he raised one of his arms away from Dawn and held it out to her. Beaming a watery smile at him, Willow stepped into his soothing embrace. She felt his fatherly affection for all of them in that hug, and was calmed and comforted by it.

“Giles,” came Xander’s voice from the porch, “are they okay? Is it over?”

Giles, Willow, and Dawn looked down the hallway and saw Xander just entering the open door, Tara and Anya behind him. Xander saw the girls and smiled widely.

“Yup. It’s over. And it’s the best kind of over. Happy ending over. Gotta love those.”

Tara rushed to the three who were still clinging together in a group hug, and Willow broke away from Giles and Dawn to wrap her arms around the woman she loved. They said with their embrace what they couldn’t say with their words. Love, devotion, and dedication were all offered, accepted, returned, and renewed.

Anya grabbed Xander’s arm and watched the emotional group in front of her. “Oh, good, they’re back. I have to say, Willow, that’s a very impressive arsenal of power you have access to. I’m very pleased that you’re on our side. It would be unpleasant to cross you.”

Willow looked at the ex-demon over Tara’s shoulder, knowing that was as close as Anya would ever come to a warm welcome. “Um. Thanks, Anya. I...appreciate the...sentiment.”

Anya grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “So,” she said, turning to Xander, “does this mean we can go home now or are you going to insist we have to help with the cleanup?”

“An,” Xander cast a sheepish glance at the unsurprised, but faintly irritated people that were his friends, “I don’t think clean up is really what needs to happen now. Am I right Giles?”

Giles didn’t let go of Dawn, couldn’t let go of her yet, so he shifted her to his side where she nestled comfortably against him. He faced the group, confidence and calm demeanor firmly back in place.

“Yes, well...there is the matter of discussing what happened in the nether realm. And I’m not happy about the fact that we just felt a rather strong earthquake. I believe our experiences indicate those as something of a harbinger of doom. But, that can probably all wait until tomorrow as I’m sure Willow and Dawn are tired from their ordeal. Quite frankly, I don’t believe a little assessing of the damage and some cleaning up would be out of line, really. Then we can get some sleep and start fresh in the morning.”

Willow let go of Tara and said, “Clean-up will have to wait. Giles, there’s something you should know. The earthquake wasn’t just in Sunnydale. Dawn and I felt it in the nether realm, and as far as I know - that’s just not a possibility. Do you have any ideas?”

“Oh dear.”

Xander heard the breathless exclamation, saw the frown Giles gave and sighed audibly. “Lemme guess. Happy ending a bit premature?”

Giles just looked at him wryly and nodded. “I would say so, yes. Perhaps we should all adjourn to the family room. No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid. This is proving to be one very long night.”

Six weary and mentally drained individuals moved en masse into the less destroyed family room, resignation and responsibility weighing each of them down.

 

********************

 

Spike was slowly regaining consciousness as his body shifted slightly. Whatever he was lying on was extremely uncomfortable - and in no way meant for naptime. Plus there was a soft drone in his head, muted conversation that wouldn’t let him slip back into the depths of healing sleep.

One of the voices, he wasn’t really aware which one, nagged at his mind, pulling at it ceaselessly, prodding it into embracing awakeness when all he really wanted to do was lie in the dark and heal.

But it wouldn’t let him.

As his mind got dragged, resisting all the way, back into some semblance of awareness, the cottony cobwebs over his thoughts cleared a bit and he was able to pinpoint who the voice belonged to. When he did, he knew why it had so mercilessly forced him awake. That knowledge thrust him into a fully alert state. Dawn.

He opened his eyes quickly and stared at the ceiling above him. Turning his head caused shooting pain to dance down his spine, into his arms and legs, and he gasped at the sudden sharpness of it. He peered around the room with only a vague recognition of his surroundings. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where he was. He knew he was in Buffy’s house, but he just didn’t recognize which part.

Rolling was agony, but Spike turned his body gently and used his arms to push himself to his hands and knees. What he saw underneath where he’d been laying made the last connection in his mind. The dining room table...or...what was left of it. He was in the dining room.

_And they said I was funny. Right. They’re a laugh a minute, they are. ‘Cuz sendin’ Spike through a portal separatin’ realities, only to come crashin’ down on a table made out of the one thing guaranteed to shorten the unlife span of any vampire has got to be a bleedin’ joke._

But the pain wasn’t funny. And they hadn’t lied about it. His body was screaming vile obscenities at him for even contemplating moving.

It didn’t matter. He was back. Dawn was here. He had to get to Dawn.

Buffy.

Oh God. Both of them.

All thoughts of the bruises, broken bones, lacerations, and everything else that was causing his body extreme torment fled out of his mind. He had to get to Dawn. He had to tell her about Buffy.

Staggering to his feet, he swayed slightly as his head spun. Shuffling out of the dining room, he followed the sound of one voice. Like a beacon through an endless night, it called him.

He paused for a brief second when he saw the living room, saw the absolute destruction, and he wondered fleetingly what could have done such a thing.

He’d find out later. Everything but one could wait for later. The voice grew louder as he stumbled through the debris and headed toward the hallway. Dawn’s voice, serious and intent, pulled him forward. Lured him ever closer to his destination. Just her voice sounded better to him than anything he’d ever heard before.

And then, after what seemed like a thousand years of torturous hell, a journey of unimaginable horrors, victories, revelations, and redemptions - if you could believe the All - he stood, trembling, in the doorway and finally got to see his Nibblet. His Little Bit. His Dawn.

No one noticed his presence, they were all engrossed in Dawn’s retelling of the battle between Spike and Willow’s aura. To look at her, you’d never know she’d just been through a life-threatening ordeal. She was so excited in her retelling. There was just no repressing that bubbling personality.

“Nibblet.”

The familiar but long-since-heard voice and endearment effectively cut Dawn’s story off mid-sentence and her head whipped around to stare in stunned amazement at the broken and bleeding body of a long lost friend.

She didn’t even notice that five other pairs of eyes were just as wide and just as stunned as hers were. The minute Dawn saw Spike it was as if no one else in the room even existed.

He was holding on to the door jam for support, afraid he’d topple over if he let go, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the girl he’d grown to love so much. His bruised face shifted painfully into a tender smile as he watched those huge, beautiful eyes fill with tears from across the room.

She was rooted to her spot, shock holding her in place, holding everyone as still as ice sculptures. Spike tried to do something about the growing tension and amazement that was rising to palpable levels in the room.

“Hi, honey. I’m home.”

It worked.

Dawn finally got her throat to work again and she said his name in a choked sob that sounded like wonderfully joyous bells in his ears. “Spike! Oh my God, Spike!”

As long as Dawn lived, she would never remember actually jumping up from her chair and running over to his damaged body. One minute she was sitting in stunned silence, the next she was feeling him wince in pain as she wrapped surprisingly strong arms around his waist.

When she realized she was hurting him she tried to pull back, tears of joy streaming down her face. He wouldn’t let her. He didn’t care about the pain; he just wanted to feel her in his arms again like he had the morning after Buffy died. For her, it was a month, for him, just several days, for both, it was a lifetime.

He drank in her scent, never as happy as he was at that minute to be a vampire - not because of the badness inherent in it - but because of the gifts he could enjoy. The life he could feel with every one of his hypersensitive senses. Her heartbeat, felt pounding through their separate layers of clothing, heard throbbing, strong and even - if a little fast - in his ears. The scent that was uniquely Dawn, but just a touch of Buffy, too. The feel of her warm skin under his fingers as he traced one shaking hand down her wet cheek. The taste of her on his lips after he’d pressed a hard, quick kiss to her forehead.

But the best of all was seeing her - looking into those blue pools of mystery and knowing, without ever needing to ask, that she loved him, too.

There was a total acceptance and joy at his return. Not once did she ever even question who he was - what he was. She knew he was a vampire, knew what he had done in the past and what he was capable of doing even now, but she also knew that he wouldn’t. Never again. And it had nothing to do with a government chip. She saw in him what he hoped that one day Buffy would see. She saw the man before the fang. And she always had.

Suddenly she turned away from him. Not letting go - just shifting her body around to stare at the still silent and floored group in the room. The Slayer’s little sister gathered all of the strength that had been growing in her for the last month and commanded action from the people that she loved.

“Anya, go into the freezer and get two packets of blood - they’re under the frozen peas. Heat them in the microwave and bring them here. Tara, check the bathroom closet upstairs in Giles’ room, there are more first aide supplies in there, and it has a door, so the earthquake probably didn’t shake things up too bad. They were on the third shelf, but I can’t guarantee that’s where they still are. Xander, go down to the basement. There’s clean laundry in the drier and I know I washed a set of Giles’ sweatpants. Grab a pair, and a tee shirt too, black, just in case he bleeds on it. Giles, Willow, help me get him to the couch. He needs to lie down.”

It was Spike’s turn to be stunned and he gaped at the girl still holding him tightly. This was a new and improved Dawn, strong and self-assured. Spike liked it. He grinned at her remarkable show of spine.

What really surprised him was that the gang actually leapt into action, jumping up to follow her calmly spoken commands as if they were a common occurrence. No doubt about it, a lot had changed in the twenty-six days he’d been gone. He finally understood what the All had meant when they told him they’d been developing Dawn and Willow and the rest of the Scooby’s.

But apparently, not all the developing was a good thing. When Xander passed out of the room and stared at him with a coldly dead expression, Spike frowned. It didn’t make sense. He and Harris were just starting to, well, not get along exactly...but tolerate each other a little better during the events leading up to the fight with Glory. The look that he just got told him something had changed. There was no tolerance in his expression any longer.

_Whelp doesn’t look like he’d spit on you if you were on fire, mate, let alone light your cigarette if your hands were sliced and diced._

Spike didn’t have the time to question it. Like everything else, it could wait until later. With Giles and Willow gently moving him towards the couch, Dawn rushing around setting up pillows and grabbing a throw off the back of a chair, he didn’t even have a chance to tell them about Buffy. He was in too much pain right then to say much of anything, actually.

“You’re back,” Dawn rambled as she bustled around the room. “You’re really back. We’ve been looking for you, Spike, I swear it. Willow found out where you were.”

Once he had been gently lowered to the couch and Dawn had covered him up, Spike reached out and grabbed Willow’s wrist before she could turn away. He had something to say to her, and it couldn’t wait - not even for Buffy.

“I know what you did, Will. I was told what you did for me, for Dawn. To try to find me. No one’s ever done anythin’ like that for me before. I won’t forget it. Thank you.”

Willow knelt down next to the vampire and smiled gently at him despite the confusion at his words. She had no idea how he knew, or who told him, but she could wait. “We can talk about that later, right now we need you to tell us what happened. How did you get out of hell?”

“Hell?” Surprised, Spike looked at each of the three curious people in turn. “Where’d you get the idea I was in hell?”

“Willow saw it, Spike, when she was merged with your aura. She saw the realm you went into - why’d you go? Why’d you do it?”

“Nibblet, I didn’t. I don’t think I underst-”

Finally he realized what it was Willow had seen and it all made sense. He looked at the Watcher and witch, but pulled Dawn down onto the couch next to him, holding her gently. “Rupert, Will, I think you’d better both sit down. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you and it’s going to be a bit of a shock.”

Spike spoke in a serious tone. It was a tone that no one was used to hearing from him, not even Dawn. There was no sarcasm, no amused derision, no teasing drawl. He spoke as if the weight of the world was planted firmly on his chest, and after what each one of them had been through that night; they felt chilled by the words and the expressive feelings behind them.

“I didn’t go to hell, pet,” Spike said to Dawn, reaching out to grab a lock of her long hair between his fingers, maybe for comfort. He knew what he would tell them would be more than shocking. It would take a while to get used to - even though it was the best news any of them could possibly imagine. Later, only later would he tell the gang the rest of it. Of his meeting with All and the message they sent with him. “Will, if you saw what I saw as I went into that realm, then you were seeing what heaven looks like for a vampire. I was sent to heaven.”

Giles yanked the glasses off his face and leaned forward. “What? What did you...heaven? You were sent to heaven? Spike, what are you talking about?”

Spike met and held the Watcher’s stunned gaze and nodded slowly. “When I was taken that mornin’, after...well, you know. That creature that nabbed me took me to a pair of Oracles. Have you heard of ‘em?”

Giles nodded his head, a strange feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. “According to several writings, they are a link to the Powers. The Powers that Be.”

“Right. They sent me to heaven.”

Willow didn’t understand. She couldn’t reconcile what she saw to what she’d heard of the place. “If that was heaven, I’m suddenly very glad to be Jewish.”

Spike smiled. “I doubt it would look that way for you, Will. The look you got was through vampire colored glasses.”

Giles, mind reeling, spoke slowly, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Spike, why did they send you to heaven?”

“You know why, Rupert. I can tell you know why.” Spike looked at the three people around him and tried to tell them as gently as he was capable of doing. “They sent me to get Buffy. To get her to come back. And I did.”

“Bullshit!”

The harsh expletive from the doorway made all four of the room’s occupants jump. Four heads turned to see the young man, shaking with anger, clutching a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.

Giles, Willow, and Dawn were too thunderstruck by what Spike just said to do anything to stop Xander’s furious tirade.

“That’s bullshit, Spike. What the hell are you trying to pull? You come back after a month and you expect us to believe that crap? Why would they do that? Why would they care that she’s gone? And even if they did, you expect us to believe some higher power chose you? A vampire? And sent you to heaven for Buffy. I don’t fucking think so. There’s also a big ass flaw in your story, Dead Man Walking, where is she? ‘Cuz here you are, all warm and comfortable, but I’m not seeing any Buffy-sized people anywhere.”

Anya and Tara heard the commotion and walked into the testosterone minefield. Each was carrying the items they were sent to retrieve.

“Wh-what’s going on?” asked Tara, confused at the hostility she was feeling.

Xander spun on her. “You wanna know what’s going on? The bloodsucker just told us that he’s been spending the past month in heaven, sent there by some higher power to get Buffy back. Can you believe that? Guess he felt that after a month of being gone, he’d hurt us as much as possible to make up for lost time.”

Spike rose to his feet slowly and purposefully, anger stirring dangerously. His aching body was buoyed by the rolling fury inside him. He wasn’t about to tell the whelp that he wasn’t supposed to be there at all. Or how the Oracles had told him going in that only the Slayer would be returning from that bloody realm. How he was there now and she wasn’t thanks to a group of entities older and more powerful than the Powers themselves, entities that had stepped in and saved him because Buffy would need his help. He would tell them about All and the coming badness with the Powers as soon as Buffy was home, but he wasn’t planning on telling anyone the other. Ever.

“I’m tellin’ you the bloody truth, Harris. Look at me. Does it look like I’m in any condition to be playin’ games, here? Do you think for one minute I’d come here, lie about something like this, hurt Dawn like that? I love her.”

“You don’t know the first thing about love.”

“Yes,” Willow stood and faced her lifelong friend, compassion and understanding in her gaze, “he does. He loves Dawn, Xander. He loved Buffy, too. I felt it when I was in his aura trail. He wouldn’t do what you’re suggesting. He couldn’t hurt Dawn or Buffy’s memory that way. If he is telling us that he went to heaven to get Buffy back, then I believe him. And I, for one, want to believe that she can come back.”

Dawn stood up, wrapped her arm around Spike’s waist and stared at Xander with a wisdom that belied her years. She just found out that a sister she’d never thought to see again may be returned to her, to all of them, and this was not the time for the group to be fragmented. Part of her was an aching, raw wound; part of her was giddy at the possibility.

“I know how much losing Buffy hurt you, Xander. It changed you and I’ve seen it but I haven’t said anything. I should have and I’m sorry. I know that you’re still not over it. None of us are. But it’s not right to blame Spike, or hate him for it. You lost someone you loved and you’ve been lashing out at the only person you’re conscience will allow you to. That’s what all this is about, right? Your pain and your loss - and the fear not that he’s lying, but that he’s telling the truth. It’s not Spike’s fault Buffy died. It’s not Buffy’s fault either. She did what she had to do to save all of us. And he just told us that she’s coming back. You have to let go of the anger. You have to. And you need to let go of the fear.”

Something cold and hard in Xander’s heart, something that had been there for twenty-six long days, started to thaw when faced with the immutable truth of a young girl who had no choice in life but to deal with issues far worse than his. Issues that took a back seat while she tried to ease his pain, despite the overwhelming burden of her own.

He couldn’t look away from her.

“Where is she, Spike?” he asked, all trace of venom gone from his voice and not once breaking eye contact with Dawn. “Where’s Buffy? Lets bring her home.”

 

********************

 

Across town, under the sheltering branches of a Weeping Willow, a lone figure clothed in a gauzy, cream-colored gown stared down at the tombstone in front of her. In her right hand was a sharp wooden stake, a very familiar sharp wooden stake. Mr. Pointy, to be exact. When she raised her hand to examine it, she smiled.

One of her extended family must have taken it upon themselves to make sure that she would never be unarmed in a cemetery. That was thoughtful.

It was a warm night, fragrant and breezy, and the scent of jasmine drifted in the air currents. Buffy breathed in deeply, enjoying the peace and quiet of the place.

Tears sprang to her eyes when she knelt down to get a closer look at the writing on the headstone in front of her.

 

BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS

1981-2001

BELOVED SISTER

DEVOTED FRIEND

SHE SAVED THE WORLD

A LOT

 

Buffy was moved and rocked by the reality of it all, truly understanding for the first time that she had really died. As in dead died. She’d also apparently been gone for a while; her grave wasn’t new. And now, thanks to the pressing need for her to rejoin the fight and one man’s dedication to doing the right thing, she’d returned. Suddenly it wasn’t such a small thing, or something to be shrugged away as just another day in the wicked fun life of the Slayer.

It was huge.

And the headstone perched at the top of her grave made it more than huge, it made it real.

The Slayer, the evolved Chosen One and Keeper of the Balance stood for a long time, just staring down at the grave of the girl she used to be.

Things were going to be different because she was different. She imagined that the people that she loved would be different as well. They had lost a friend and a sister, and had grieved for their loss.

Grief changes a person. Buffy knew that very well.

Yes. Things were going to be very different. But they were also going to be something else. No matter what happens in the future, no matter what other evil would pop up to threaten humanity, there was one thing Buffy was very sure of. Things were going to be better. Because she was better.

She was whole now, in a way that she’d never been before. And she was really looking forward to exploring herself, finding out what the balance had brought along with it.

And she’d have her sister without the fear of Glory over their heads, and the gang, and...oh, yeah...one other thing. A vampire that loved her. That she loved back.

Buffy smiled to herself, knowing that these changes were going to create some very interesting waves. She was willing to ride out the waves in the pursuit of happiness. For in the end, life is far too short not to accept happiness when you find it, accept love in whatever form it shows itself, be it werewolf, ex-demon, witch...or a soulless vampire with a conscience who was more of a man than most men.

And he was coming. They all were. Spike would know where she was; he would figure it out and bring them here. If he could find her in heaven, a cemetery was no stretch for a vampire. Soon they would all be together again. All Buffy had to do was wait.

Sitting down on top of her now empty grave, crossing her legs as demurely as possible in her dress, that’s exactly what she did. Wait. And she spent a little more time saying good-bye to a girl that had sacrificed herself for the people that she loved and the world she had lived in.


	16. Chapter 16

Xander finally pulled his eyes away from Dawn. Fighting back his emotions, he leveled the vampire with a serious stare. “Well?” There was resignation and exhaustion in his voice. All the hostility and anger were gone. “Where is she, Spike? You said you got her out of heaven. Where is she?”

Everyone was staring at him. Spike could feel the weight of their eyes. His mind was racing even as he leaned on Dawn for support. It was doubtful that anyone knew just how thrashed he was, just how close to collapsing in a heap. But there wasn’t time for collapsing. The only thing there was time for was getting Buffy home.

Passing out from the pain of his myriad physical injuries could come later.

“Actually, Harris,” he said quietly, “that’s what one of you need to tell me.”

Looking like Spike just reached out and slapped him, Xander shook his head slightly and asked, “Huh?”

Spike sighed and took a moment to squeeze Dawn’s shoulders. “Listen people, I’ll be more than happy to explain everthin’ to you _after_ we get Buffy back, but for now this is what I know. The Oracles are gonna drop the girl back into her body and the Powers are gonna resurrect her…or whatever it is they do so she’s a walkin’, talkin’ Buffy again. Hell, they may’ve already done it. So, my question for you is, where is she?”

No one spoke. Everyone just looked at each other, still having a hard time grasping even the idea that Buffy was coming home.

Giles felt nauseated and his head was spinning. He took a step backwards and dropped down into the armchair, giving his suddenly weak limbs a much-needed rest.

There were certain things that a person had to accept about their lives when they became the Watcher of an active Slayer. Things like dealing with vampires, demons, and all other manner of supernatural evil that threatened the world. Things like giving up any hope of a normal life, marriage and family and the like. Things like knowing that no matter how good your Slayer is, one day you would eventually lose her. They all die. They die and others are called, and other Watchers takes up where you left off. Those were all things that Giles accepted about his sacred duty. Those were all things that he had gone through. There had been joy, a sense of purpose that was absolutely indescribable, but also terror and tragedy. He had gone through all of it.

And it had been both so much better and so much worse for Giles because Buffy was so much more than just the Slayer to him. He had loved her like a daughter.

But never in all of the things Giles had prepared himself for as the Watcher of an active Slayer had there been any mention of what to do when the Slayer was brought back from the dead…primarily because it had never happened. And this wasn’t like before, when Buffy drowned. That first time doesn’t even compare. No. Buffy died. He grieved. He had been forced to pick up the shattered pieces of his heart and move on, dedicating himself to Dawn.

Now Spike was telling him, telling all of them, that Buffy was coming home again. She had been brought back from the dead. There just wasn’t a book on that. This wasn’t something he could research, something he could prepare for or fight. This was real and it was now and Giles was completely unprepared for it. He didn’t know what to say.

Anya looked around at everyone, confused by the heavy emotions that were swirling around the room. And her hand was getting tired. She was still holding the mug of cooling blood that she had prepared for Spike. That was just unacceptable. She gave herself a mental shake and walked over to the vampire, thrusting the mug into his surprised hand.

“We buried her next to Joyce,” she told him. “There was a ceremony.”

Spike hadn’t really thought about that. They had buried her; he figured they would’ve buried her. For them, she’d been gone a month. Somehow, knowing that still hadn’t made it real, not like finding out they’d had a funeral for her. That was real. That was too real. He looked down at Dawn, who seemed to be concentrating intently on some unseen spot on the floor.

“You okay, pet?”

She met his eyes and gave him a tremulous smile. “Yeah, Spike. I’m okay. It’s just…big. Really big, ya know? But I’m okay. Lets find her, though, please? Can we go now?”

Spike turned his head and checked out the stunned Watcher. “Giles?”

Giles started slightly at the hail. “Y-yes, of course. We should, um, take two cars. We’ll go now. Dawn, Spike, my car. Xander, if you would drive the girls?”

Xander nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

Willow moved around to Spike’s other side, offering to help get him to the car. Spike took a minute to gulp down the mug of blood in his hand. Not only would it help speed the healing process, but it had also been a long time since he’d last eaten.

When he finished, Dawn smiled tenderly at him and took the mug out of his hand, setting it on the end table. It was a small gesture, but it touched him. It was a reassurance that she was okay with him and his need for the blood that he fed on.

The three of them followed the rest of the gang out of the family room and into the hallway but they were brought up short before they made it past the front doorway. Their friends had stopped just outside the door, clustering on the porch and not moving.

Willow tried to crane her neck to see what they were so interested in, but couldn’t see over Xander’s and Giles’ shoulders. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

Xander looked at Giles, disbelief and confusion etched on his face. “Giles, is it me or is something wrong with this picture?”

Giles, Tara, and Anya just gaped at the street, the yard, the houses around them. Slowly descending the front porch steps they spread out and looked around.

Feeling a little better after the food, Spike called out to the four people. “Hey! Can’t help but notice no one seems to be movin’ in the direction of the cemetery. What’s that all about, then?”

“There was an earthquake,” explained Giles in a hushed voice, “we were out here when it hit. We saw it. There was damage. Downed telephone poles, trees. It’s gone. All of it. Like it never happened.”

“Oh,” Spike shrugged, surprisingly unconcerned. But he knew things that he hadn’t told them yet. “They probably just cleaned up whatever damage the portal caused. Let’s go.”

“Wait,” said Xander, confused. “What? Who are ‘they’? What are you talking about?”

Spike rolled his eyes, growing frustrated and burning with the rising need to get to Buffy as fast as possible. “Later, Harris. It can wait until later. Buffy can’t. Seems to me, spendin’ a lot of time lookin’ at nothin’ isn’t gonna get us anywhere. Let’s go.”

Willow and Dawn supported the injured vampire as they slowly made their way to Giles’ car. Once they had him loaded into the back seat, stretched out and weak, Dawn turned her attention back to the four amazed people in the yard.

“Guys, come on.” There was very little patience in her voice. She was in just as big a hurry as Spike, more so, actually. And she wasn’t going to let a little thing like mysterious earthquake-debris clean up drag her attention away from the most important moment in her life. “Unless you’d rather stay here. I’m sure Willow wouldn’t mind driving me to my sister. The sister that has been brought back from the dead.”

In the dark recesses of the car, Spike grinned. Dawn’s show of spine and composure reminded him of their trip to the nest of the Ghora demon. She’d been so determined and strong that night, stealing the egg she needed for a resurrection spell. He remembered thinking of her as a bitty Buffy.

Now, though, she was even more so. In fact, she was so much like Buffy that the rest of the gang responded to her without even questioning the reasons. In the month big sis had been gone, the Scoobies had just picked up where they left off. Following the lead of a Summers girl. No one seemed bothered by the fact that this one hadn’t yet reached the ripe old age of fifteen. They just acted out of habits ingrained by the strength of the Summers ladies’ character. _Yup_ , he thought, _must be the bloody genes._

Giles finally got into the car, tossing a slightly sheepish glance at Dawn, who was already buckled up and waiting in the passenger seat. Starting the car up, he backed slowly out of the driveway.

It was a silent trip. Giles and Dawn where both wrapped up in their own thoughts, even questions remained unasked as they each processed the idea of Buffy’s return. It gave Spike his first chance to rest a bit after the non-stop roller coaster ride he’d been on. Unlike the rest, the vampire had been going full-bore since before the fight with Glory. He hadn’t stopped since he nicked that RV for the gang’s ill-fated getaway. He was exhausted.

But he was also deeply relieved and strangely content. Coming back, dropping into the dining room of Buffy’s house, being with Dawn and the rest of the merry misfits again had been like coming home. It was a good feeling. A unique feeling. Vampires weren’t exactly notorious for being moved by the ideas of home and hearth.

Then again, Spike wasn’t a normal vampire. Obviously. And after everything he had been through, he was okay with that. Being the Big Bad and glorying in misery and pain didn’t seem nearly as thrilling as it once had. Not when the alternative was loving and being loved by Nibblet, loving Buffy.

He reached out a hand and touched a lock of Dawn’s hair that was hanging down the back of the seat. It was very good to be home.

 

********************

 

They’re here.

Buffy had been spending some interesting minutes playing with her newfound balance, testing it out. Over and over she had called forth the Slayer, feeling her power drop down like a comfortable cloak and wrap around her. Then she’d switch it off and it was almost as if it rolled itself up and moved aside, closeting itself away from her until it was called again.

It was a heady feeling. Control. Power. A sense of rightness and destiny that was no longer scary.

Before she died, Buffy had spent long years trying to keep the Slayer away from her life. She was just a girl, right? A girl who pined for anything and everything that heralded normalcy. If killing demons kept the world safe, then she killed demons, but she never embraced being the Chosen One. Never wanted to.

But now she was separate. And together. And it felt so good that there was no question that this was how it was supposed to be for her.

While she had been exploring her new talent, Buffy discovered something about herself that she never would have guessed. At first, when she turned off the Slayer in her and was left with nothing but the girl, it had felt like something was missing. Something was wrong. She didn’t like it.

So, as she refined her control over her powers, she tried keeping a bit of the Slayer with her even as she sent most of it away. And it worked. That part of herself that had been blended, the soul and the Slayer, was who she really was. Sure, when needed there would be no problem bringing the full force of her power to bear, but the person that she was – that felt the most right – wasn’t just a girl. She was a bit of both. And that was kind of a surprise. But she was okay with it, more than okay.

It was during one of her ‘power off’ sessions that she felt him. Blended as she was, it was little more than a tickle in her mind, but she felt her power responding to his presence, questioning her, asking her if it was needed. Vampire…it identified the nearby creature as a vampire. It was her soul that told her that it was Spike. And as soon as she got over the surprise of such a definitive identification – a nifty little bonus she hadn’t been expecting – she smiled and got to her feet, staring off in the direction her senses were telling her he was.

Common sense told her he wouldn’t be alone. Her family had come to get her just like she knew they would. Dawn was coming. Giles, the gang, they were all coming. They were here.

 

********************

 

“Dawn, go I tell you. I’ll be fine. Go see your sister.”

Spike was leaning against the car, trying to let Dawn know that he didn’t want to be responsible for slowing her down. She was, as usual, being stubborn.

“No, Spike. I won’t just leave you here. You did this. You’re the reason. And you deserve to be with us.”

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed in mock anger. He couldn’t really be mad at her; she was being thoughtful to a degree that he’d never been shown before. But he just wasn’t physically able to walk to Buffy’s grave. He was barely managing to keep himself upright, even with the car as support.

He brushed a hand down Dawn’s cheek, impressed that he was able to keep from trembling in exhaustion and pain, and spoke seriously to her. “I’m tellin’ you, Nibblet, not suggestin’. This isn’t up for debate. I’ll not be dragged around like some vampire-sized rag doll. Besides, it’s been so long for you, pet – but I just left her a little while ago. And she deserves some time with you lot without havin’ me tossed into the mix.”

Dawn frowned, ready to argue again, when Willow stepped forward and spoke. “He’s right, Dawnie.” She pinned Spike with a meaningful look. “Not about the ‘tossed into the mix’ stuff, though. But he’s hurt badly, and it’s too far to carry him. It may hurt him worse than he already is.”

That was enough to convince the teen. She didn’t want to hurt him. But she still felt bad about leaving him in the cemetery parking lot, all alone and hurt. She leaned forward and hugged him carefully, taking just enough time to whisper in his ear without the rest hearing.

“I’ll bring her to you, then. Thank you Spike, for bringing her home, for loving me, for loving her. I know how much you love us. Thank you. I’m pretty sure you know – you’d have figured it out – but I need to tell you, I need to say it out loud. I love you, too.” Dawn pressed a quick kiss to the utterly floored vampire’s cheek. “We’ll be right back.”

She turned quickly and took charge once again. “Let’s go, guys.”

Buffy’s decidedly odd extended family headed off in the direction of her grave. They walked in a group, and as Spike looked on – stunned at what Dawn had said, even more so at what she did – he realized why he had never been able to defeat these people, back when he had still been trying to. They loved one another, deeply cared for one another, and they looked out for each other. You can’t beat that. And now he was a part of it, too. Dawn had just made him part of it, too.

 

********************

 

Dawn’s heart was in her throat. Her mind was spinning and her body was pretty much on autopilot. She figured she must be hiding it pretty well though; either that or the gang was too wrapped up in their own stunned amazement to notice the tenuous grip she had on her zigzagging emotions.

Today was the best day she’d ever had.

A month ago, when Buffy died and Spike disappeared, Dawn had been devastated. The combined loss was the worst kind of example of how everyone around her either suffered or died. She was a lightning rod of pain and torment and it had taken absolutely everything in her to push forward and go on with life without her sister.

She never told anyone. Never talked about it. But her fear and pain had been used as fuel for her determination and purpose. She made decisions for herself, for what would happen to her, and had convinced Giles to become her guardian. She made up her mind to rescue Spike, not that there had ever been a question about that, and had convinced Willow and Tara to help her. She needed to live like Buffy asked her to, so she got out of bed every morning, went to school, worked hard, and watched out for and protected her loved ones as best she could.

She did everything she knew how to do. And eventually things got better. The gang loved her and took care of her as she loved and took care of them. The feeling of being doomed to badness slowly dissipated. Eventually, the determination and purpose fueled themselves. She had started to heal.

Now this. Maybe she was being rewarded. Maybe the scales had finally tipped in her favor – they were bound to eventually, right? Maybe. But it didn’t really matter.

Whatever this day meant in the grand scheme of things…whatever was fated to happen down the road…the one thing that could never be stripped away from Dawn was the memory of this day. Seeing Spike standing in the doorway of the family room, severely damaged but back, calling her name in that sweet way he had. Hearing him say that he had been sent to Buffy to bring her back. That he had succeeded. This was the best day to end all best days.

And now she would have her sister again. To love, to take care of, to watch out for even as Buffy did the same for her. Because that’s what it’s all about. Taking care of each other, loving, being loved. That’s what life is. Without love, life is nothing but wasted time between long stretches of darkness.

Dawn walked out of the shadows of the weeping willow tree, the gang just a step behind her. There, standing in front of her, not more than ten feet away, was her sister.

Buffy stood, clad in the dress that Dawn had picked out for her burial, holding the stake that Dawn had slipped into her hand during a visit to the mortuary.

The sisters stared at each other for a long second, the reality of the situation hitting both of them and holding them silent. Slowly, and as if they were mirroring each other, identical joyous smiles grew on both of their faces. Behind them, and completely unnoticed by the two, the gang stared in stunned but ecstatic amazement at the vision in front of them.

Buffy Summers was alive. She had returned.

“Dawnie!”

“Buffy!”

The Summers girls, united once again, leapt forward and wrapped their arms around each other. They hugged tightly, clinging desperately, as if to let go would make one or both of them disappear.

“Buffy, oh God, Buffy, I missed you so much.” The teen wept unashamedly, they were happy tears, cleansing and pure.

“I missed you too, Dawnie. I love you. So very, very much. I’m home. Everything is going to be all right.” Buffy leaned back slightly to drink in the sight of her sister. Crying, smiling, she was swept away by the emotions of having her in her arms again. It was miraculous.

“I did like you asked, Buffy,” the words poured out of Dawn in a rush. “I lived. I had to. It hurt so much, but I did what you told me to do. I was strong. I took care of them, we took care of each other.”

“Oh, Dawnie, I’m so proud of you. Look at you.” Buffy pulled back and held Dawn away from her slightly, love and joy flooding her features. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” She brushed a reverent hand down her sister’s long, dark hair, smiling tenderly. “Listen to me, Dawnie, when I was…gone…I thought about you every minute. I know how painful it must have been for you, but I’m back. And you don’t have to live with just the memory of a sister that loves you anymore. You get to have the real thing. We both do. I love you.”

Willow and Xander had tears streaming down their faces – neither one knew it, nor would they have particularly cared if they did. Giles was standing off to the right a bit, and his eyes were suspiciously damp, as well.

Anya and Tara were smiling widely. They had missed Buffy and had felt her loss, though maybe not quite as keenly as their loved ones did. Still, this was a momentous occasion. They were thrilled.

Pressing a quick kiss to Dawn’s cheek, Buffy scanned the small gathering of people behind her sister. Just looking at all of them again was such a gift. Her family. Her loved ones. She was home. This was where she belonged.

“Go on, Buffy,” Dawn said, feeling Buffy’s desire to go to her friends – knowing that she would be conflicted about releasing her long enough to do so. “They missed you too. I’m not going anywhere, I’m okay – go on.”

Buffy flashed a mildly surprised look at the mature young woman in front of her – so different than the scared and traumatized girl that she had left behind _. Grief…her grief changed her. Made her stronger. You knew they would be different._

She smiled, comforted, and let go of Dawn’s hand. Gliding gracefully, she walked up to Xander and Willow, who had come together in a shared, supportive, half embrace.

Almost shyly, not knowing what to say, Buffy looked at her teary-eyed friends. “Hi guys.”

They stared at her, not quite as quick as Dawn at processing things of this magnitude. And, hey…Buffy back from the dead…magnitude. Big magnitude. Huge.

Willow was the first one to find her voice, shaky as it was. “You’re back. You’re really back.”

Buffy grinned. “Yup. That’s the rumor.”

“God. You’re here. Back. In front of me…us.”

Willow looked like she was about ready to lose it, and Buffy knew just how hard her death had affected her best friends. Sympathy and love gripped her heart.

She needed to lighten the mood, or ran the risk of breaking down, herself. “And ya know? Coming back from the dead…not as tough as you’d think. Can’t figure out why more people don’t do it. And heaven…completely overrated. The food was terrible.”

Willow and Xander stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. The odd comments put a quick end to their tears. Buffy just looked back at them calmly, a small smile tugging at her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

Behind her, Buffy heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort – followed by a quick giggle. Dawn was giggling. Willow leaned to her right and looked around Buffy. The look on her face was so funny, all bemused and curious, Dawn laughed again, a big bark of laughter.

When Anya frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, muttering, “Great. Here we go again with the inappropriate humor,” Tara squeaked out a high-pitched tittering that may have also been classified as laughter.

Nothing worked better as an icebreaker than humor…even the inappropriate kind.

Laughing out loud and completely unrestrained, Buffy threw herself at Willow and Xander, grabbing them up in a huge hug. “I’m back! Oh man, I missed you two.”

As if touching her made it real, made it all okay again, Willow felt her shock dissolve and she returned Buffy’s tight, possessive hug fiercely. “We missed you too, Buffy. I can’t believe you’re here. This is…wow…I’m…wow.”

Buffy chuckled freely. “Tell me about it. Pretty wild, huh?”

Still a little stiff, but trying to catch up, Xander smiled wryly. “Yeah, wild. That’s one way to put it. The best thing ever, that’s another.”

That stopped Buffy in her tracks, and she felt her heart squeeze a little at Xander’s sincerity. “Oh, Xander.” She drew back from Willow and wrapped her arms around Xander’s waist. Looking up into his eyes, she spoke from her heart. “This is the best thing ever for me, too. I love you, Xander. Willow, I love both of you. I know I didn’t tell you nearly often enough before. Things are…different now. I’m different. Better. So you guys better start getting used to mushy girl, ‘cuz I think you may be seeing quite a bit of her.”

Xander looked down at her, saw her heart shining bright and clear in her eyes. He could see the difference. The wall that had always kept Buffy just a little apart from all of them was gone. It gave him a new hope; it started the seed of a new belief deep inside him. Not like before, where just having Buffy around meant that they would always come out on top. This was different. He wasn’t even sure what the belief was, exactly, but he knew it was filling him up. Making him happier than he’d been in a very long time.

Suddenly, the weight of the box in his pocket wasn’t nearly as heavy and nagging as it had been for the past month.

Pressing a quick, brotherly kiss to Buffy’s forehead, he said, “Mushy girl, huh? Well, as long as that doesn’t mean you’re going to start oozing anything icky, I think we can handle that. Yeah. We can handle that just fine. Welcome home, Buffy.”

With a quick grin and a flip of her hair, Buffy moved on to Tara and Anya, hugging both of them quickly. She gave the mentally whole Tara a wide smile and tossed a comment back over her shoulder to Willow.

“See, Will. Told you. Big gun.”

Giles watched his Slayer, his Buffy, greet her sister and her friends. Standing slightly apart from the rest, he tried to hold on to his staunch British composure. But there was nothing he could do about the wide grin splitting his features. As he watched the girl quip and laugh and hug and love, his heart healed. He didn’t care why Buffy was here – he’d probably need to ask about that later – for now, all he cared about was that this girl that he loved like a daughter, that he’d lost and grieved for, was back. And she was walking toward him. Finally.

Watcher and Slayer, man and young woman, Giles and Buffy stared at each other.

“Hi, Giles.”

“Hello, Buffy.”

“I’m back.”

“Y-yes. I can see that. Welcome home.”

Buffy grinned at the inane but proper conversation. She could definitely see the humor. “Guess this kind of sets a new bar for Slayers, huh?”

Giles could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips but he tried to resist the pull. “I believe so, yes.”

“Guess there’s gonna be a whole bunch of research and bookish type stuff you need to do now, right?”

The Watcher nodded in mock seriousness. “Most assuredly. You are the first Slayer to be returned from the dead. I’m sure there are going to be several interesting developments that the council will need me to document.”

“The council, right. Wouldn’t want to let my nifty little resurrection go unnoticed by the Watcher’s council.”

“Quite.”

The game was over. They had done the Watcher/Slayer proper gig. But this was Giles. And he was everything to Buffy. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She smiled warmly at him through the mist of her tears.

“Oh, and by the way, Giles, I love you. And I missed you very much.”

Giles smiled tenderly and opened his arms. Buffy launched herself at him. The flood of emotion was drowning him, but it was the best kind of drowning. To hell with stiff British upper lip. He rocked Buffy in his arms, pressing his cheek against the top of her head.

“I’m so proud of you, Buffy. You always made me proud. The one regret I had when you died, I realized that I had never told you that I loved you. I should have. I should have told you how much I loved you.”

Buffy sniffled into his jacket and her words were slightly muffled by the tweed. “I knew, Giles. I always knew. And I never told you either, not like I should have. But things are going to be a lot different now. I’ve changed. I’m not afraid anymore. I love you.” Buffy pulled back from his tight embrace and met his eyes. “You’re my hero. You know that, don’t you? Everything I do, everything I am is because of you. You’re my hero, Giles. I need you to know that.”

Overcome, stunned, the tears fell down the Watcher’s cheek. “Oh…Buffy.” He wrapped her up in another hug. He never wanted to let her go.

In fact, he squeezed her so tightly that Buffy had to give him a gentle reminder. “Giles…kinda need to breathe. Wouldn’t be a good to send me back to the land of the recently deceased so soon after my return.”

He blushed and loosened his grip…a little. “Right. Sorry.”

“Giles,” she whispered, not wanting the others to hear, “how long have I been gone? I noticed the grave…my grave…not new.”

“Almost a month,” he whispered back. “Twenty-six days.”

“Oh. Wow. It didn’t seem that lo-”

Buffy didn’t get to finish her sentence. Giles felt her stiffen in his arms and he released her in surprise. Looking at her, he saw her expression. Concentration and focus had replaced the softness.

“Buffy? What is it? What’s wrong?”

The Slayer – for that’s what she was, all Slayer – didn’t respond right away. The velvet cloak of her power had been brought forward and wrapped around her tightly. She spun and dropped into a fighting stance while the gang rushed toward her. They had seen the transformation and recognized it as something new. Something they had never seen before.

“Vampires,” Buffy said seriously, “four of them. Coming this way.” She nodded her head in the direction she was looking. “From there.”

“Oh, bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Xander, “can’t the evil dead guys give us one night off?”

“Unless something has changed drastically since I’ve been gone,” said Buffy, “they’re not exactly known for courtesy.”

“We need to get out of here, fast. We don’t have any weapons.”

Buffy turned her head and slid a surprised glance to Xander. “You came to a cemetery at night without any weapons?”

“Well…yeah. We were kind of preoccupied at the time, you know.”

The Slayer shook her head slightly and grinned. “Oh, right. Sorry. But you know what? I’m not in the mood for fleeing. I say new group rule is no more running away. And not all of us are unarmed.”

She looked around the ground, having dropped the stake a while ago. “Well, we weren’t all unarmed just a minute ago. Damn it.”

“Buffy!” Dawn bent down and picked up the discarded stake. “Here!” She tossed the stake to her sister, who caught it with a spin and some flair.

“Thanks Dawnie. Guys, get behind me. You’re about to see some of those changes I told you about.”

“But Buffy, we can help. We may not be loaded with the wood, but we can still fight.”

“Thanks Xander, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Willow, Tara, you guys have any barrier spells you can throw up around the group?”

Willow had never really thought about that. Sure, around a standing structure, she’d done that before, but around people? That kind of spell would come in handy. In fact, she felt a little guilty about never trying that one on her own. “Um…no. Sorry Buffy. But we’ll start working on one tomorrow. It’s a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said wryly, stepping forward and putting some distance between her and her loved ones. “I’m just chock full of the ideas of goodness.”

Coming at them, stepping from the shadows several yards away, were the four vamps. Two of them were large, over six feet, one was about 5’10” and the fourth was small. Not much taller than Dawn – who, Buffy thought with dry amusement, was still taller than she was.

It was the small one that was the eldest of the group, though. Buffy could feel it. The others were just muscle. One of them was recently risen, too, the average sized one. It was odd, just how much detail her new senses offered her. But it was a very useful tool.

One of the large vampires stepped forward, and Buffy’s narrowed gaze picked up the way he moved in front of the small one. _Head bodyguard_ , she thought. _Good to know. Gotta start somewhere._

“Well, well, Vincent,” the vampire addressed the other large one next to him. “Look what we have here. A whole group of tasty humans visiting the dearly departed. You know what that means, right?”

Vincent grinned evilly and growled low in his throat. “Yeah, Mitch. Means dinner. And look…we’re having the all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“Wow,” Buffy stood with her arms crossed over her chest, the stake hidden in the crook of her arm. “Was there a memo I missed? Because last I heard, vamps weren’t really known for their sense of humor, but that was funny. Of course, doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill you. And let’s make this quick. I’d hate to ruin my dress.”

“You’ve got balls, little girl, I’ll give you that.” Mitch growled at Buffy. “Good thing, too, give me something to rip off you before I drain you dry.”

Slayer senses on maximum, Buffy calmly stepped up to the hulking mass in front of her. Caressed by her power, snug in the cloak of strength, her body was practically tingling. She stopped about a foot in front of the demon and smiled at him. It was an innocent smile, and he seemed to miss the glint of confidence and warning in her eyes.

“You get to try. But I think I should warn you…”

Buffy moved so fast the vampire never knew what hit him. In a blink, she had spun around, the skirt of her gown whirling out around her legs, and brought her arm around in an arc, plunging the stake she’d hidden into the center of his heart. As she stared down at the pile of dust that had once been Mitch, Neanderthal vampire, she finished her sentence.

“…I’m a little bit more that I appear to be.”

Vincent lunged at her but she stepped out of the way and dispatched the new vampire – the average sized vampire – while Vincent’s momentum carried him past her.

Buffy grabbed the small one by the shoulders and threw him into a tombstone several feet away from her. He collapsed, unconscious, in a heap. “You stay there,” she told the still form, “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Vincent came at her again, with more restraint this time. He swung out a punch at her head, but she ducked under it and popped back up. When he threw an uppercut she just leaned backwards, out of the way, and grinned at him.

“There’s one other thing,” she told him as he growled in frustration and anger. She wouldn’t stay still long enough to hit – and he didn’t know how she could move so fast. “See those people back there?” Buffy stepped out of the way of a swing kick and nodded her head in her family’s direction. “They’re not here visiting the ‘dearly departed’.” She still hadn’t bothered trying to punch him, and as the vampire’s anger mounted, his punches got sloppier and less controlled. And easier to avoid. “They’re here picking up the ‘recently returned’.”

Finally tired of dodging and avoiding, Buffy stepped forward and slammed her fist into the enraged vampire’s face. Over six feet tall and at least two hundred pounds, he still flew back as if he weighed no more than a small child and landed with a thud and a grunt several feet away.

Buffy tilted her head and followed after him, looking down at his stunned face.

“You’re…shit! You’re the Slayer!” Apparently it took awhile, but the light bulb finally switched on in poor Vincent’s addled brain. “You’re dead! You’re supposed to be dead!!”

“No,” Buffy replied calmly, leaning over and shoving her stake into his chest. “You’re supposed to be dead. And now you are.”

Straightening, she looked over at her family, noticing their stunned expressions. “I’ll be right there, guys. Just one more thing I need to deal with.”

“Go on,” called Xander, not really sure what he was seeing but liking it a whole _hell_ of a lot. “We’re good. Take your time, Buffster.”

Buffy grinned at the familiar endearment and stalked over to the small vampire by the tombstone. Leaning over, she picked him up and gave him a good shake. He regained consciousness, struggling futilely in her grip, and glared at her balefully.

“Get rid of the ridges and fangs, dead boy,” she sneered at him. “I know you’re old enough to control your features. Let’s see the man behind the mask.”

When the angry but trapped vampire did as he was told, Buffy gasped in horror. “Okay, so the boy behind the mask.” The child couldn’t have been any older than thirteen when he was turned, explaining why he was so small. It made her sick. “Now I know why you needed the bodyguards.”

“Y-you’re the Slayer! You’re supposed to be dead!”

Buffy set the boy back on his feet and stepped back a bit. “You know, I bet I’m going to hear that a lot. Listen, I’m not going to kill you. I could, but I won’t. You’re going to spread the word for me. That way, maybe I’ll get less stunned disbelief when I come up on the various and sundry evil in the area.”

The vampire, confused at why he wasn’t a pile of dust yet, mumbled at her. “W-what word?”

“Well, I can tell you’ve been around awhile. You’re not a new vampire. That tells me you know how to take care of yourself. You’re so small, you’d have to.”

Offended, the vampire puffed out his chest a bit. Buffy just laughed at him. “Oh, please. This isn’t some kind of testosterone contest. You’re a vampire – you’re small – deal with it. Tell them – let them all know I’m back. And let them know if they want to live in my town, they follow my rules. They hunt, they die. Period. They want to live peaceably, go on a non-human diet, they live…or, unlive…whatever. And you might want to let them know that not only am I back, but I’m better than ever.”

Buffy turned and walked away from the very confused vampire. “Wait!” he called out after her. “I thought you were supposed to kill all of us. Since when do you grant mercy on one of our kind?”

Buffy spun around and stared at him. “Kinda pressing your luck, there, aren’t you? Anyway, you’re wrong. The Slayer isn’t just a killer. Not this Slayer, anyway. I’m the Keeper of the Balance. Now go.”

Without bothering to explain further, and chuckling at the vampire’s puzzled but relieved look, Buffy rejoined her friends. They were staring at her with opened mouth wonder.

“Hi guys.” She gave a little wave as she turned her power off, feeling it roll away from her with a satisfied brush against her soul. “I told you…there’ve been some changes.”

Giles, as the first to recover, stammered. “I-I would s-say so.”

Suddenly, Buffy remembered something. Something that was missing. Someone that was missing. She’d been so overjoyed at seeing her family, she hadn’t noticed that Spike wasn’t with them.

“Speaking of vampires, where’s Spike?”

 

********************

 

“Come on, people! How long does it take? You go in, hugs and kisses all ‘round, and you bring her out. Bloody hell, what’d you do? Set up some tea and crumpets and throw a welcome home party?”

Spike was growing antsy. The group had been gone for a while. They should have been back by now, shouldn’t they?

Just when the worry – worry that something might have happened to them – grew large enough to override his pain and send him, stumbling and sore, towards Buffy’s grave, he heard them approaching.

Looking through the darkness, he saw all of them. Dawn and Buffy walked arm and arm in the lead with the rest of the Scoobies following close behind, laughing and smiling amongst themselves. Spike grinned.

There they were, the two girls he held in his heart. Both alive and well. Talk about one good day.

Buffy glanced up and saw the man responsible for bringing her home and she had to choke back a gasp at his beaten and broken appearance. He was hurt – badly – but he was standing up at least…swaying a little, but standing.

She dropped Dawn’s arm and turned to look at her family. “Guys, give us a minute, okay? I need to talk to Spike.”

“Sure, Buff,” said Willow with a grin. “Take as long as you need.”

Buffy crossed the grass and stepped onto the pavement. She held Spike’s gaze, seeing clearly the love he had for her – even though he was trying to hide it.

Spike waited expectantly, not sure what to say.

“Hi,” she said to him, a touch of shyness in her voice.

Her shyness served to buoy his confidence, he didn’t know why. “Lookin’ good, Slayer. All back from the dead and what all.”

He was so transparent. She could read him like a book. All that bravado and smug superiority was just a front. It may have fooled the old Buffy, but as she had been reminded quite thoroughly, the old Buffy was dead.

“Yup, that’s me, resurrection girl. Nice of you to tell me I was the only one that was going to be getting that privilege, though. You know, you might have mentioned it back in the realm. Imagine my surprise when two Oracles broke the news to me.”

Spike was stunned. _Bloody hell, she knows. Shit_. He hadn’t thought about that. And suddenly, Spike was absolutely terrified.

He’d explained it to Joyce. He couldn’t tell her, because if his sacrifice didn’t matter to her, it would destroy him. All hope that they could have ever had anything together would go up like so much smoke. And if it did matter to her, it would hurt her, and he didn’t want to be responsible for any more of her pain.

Now that she knew, he was going to have to deal with the knowing – and dread pooled in the pit of his stomach.

“Buffy, I –”

She quieted him with her hand. Her fingers pressed gently to his bruised mouth and he basked in their warmth just as he had in heaven.

“And imagine _their_ surprise when I let them know, in no uncertain terms, if they didn’t find a way to get you back, the only thing I’d be keeping in balance when I returned would be my checkbook. Although, now that I think about it, I don’t think surprise was quite what they were feeling when I had them around the throat.”

Buffy watched Spike’s eyes widen in surprise. She grinned at him. “What? You didn’t really think I was going to let the man responsible for reminding me who I am – and giving me this new peace in the bargain – be terminated by a bunch of all powerful Powers, did you? But you managed to get back on your own, didn’t you? I told those two puffed up Roman peacocks you weren’t as easy to kill as they thought.”

She…oh, Christ. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Spike didn’t know. He didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t even think. All he knew was that his heart was in his throat and his stomach was in knots. And it felt fantastic.

_Man. She said man. She just called you a bleedin’ man, you pillock, and all you can do is stand there like a poof with your mouth hangin’ open. SAY SOMETHIN’ you poncy bugger._

“You-”

“No, Spike. Don’t say anything. Not yet. You’re hurt. And I want to go home. Plus, we need to tell the gang what happened, and why I was brought back. But we need to talk. There are things…things that need to be said.”

He looked at her in surprise. She’d said that to him before, back in that bitch of a realm he’d pushed her out of. She had a small smile on her mouth and there was something in her eyes that he’d never seen before, not when she looked at him, anyway. Spike tilted his head and stared at her curiously.

Buffy met his gaze and smiled. Turning away from him after a minute, she called out to her family.

“Come on guys. What do you say we all go home?”

In the time it took for a vampire and a Slayer to share a meaningful glance, both knew that things were going to be better for both of them – way better – than they had ever been before.

 

********************

 

Hours later, Spike sat alone on the back steps of Buffy’s house. Well, Dawn’s house, actually.

It was over. He and Buffy had told their combined story. The gang knew everything – more, actually, than he would have preferred, because Buffy had insisted that there be no secrets held back out of a misguided sense of protecting Dawn or the group from knowing the truth. They were told everything. Spike’s first option to bring Buffy back, why he didn’t take it, why he almost didn’t take the second option and what finally made him go through with it.

Hell, he’d been opened up and had all of his insides poked at mercilessly by the group. It was a raw and exposed feeling.

But he’d been honest.

And Buffy had let the group know that he had taken on the job of going to heaven knowing full well that he wasn’t going to be getting out again. That had surprised all of them – and it made Dawn cry. He’d hated that.

But he told them about the All, and what was coming with the Powers. Xander hadn’t been thrilled that the next major challenge was going to be a bit worse than a hell god, but he’d been supportive. Giles hadn’t said much of anything, just nodded and made notes in a notebook. Spike got the feeling that he was thrilled by all this groundbreaking information – like he was looking forward to being the one responsible for setting that Watcher’s council on its collective ear.

Of course, Spike didn’t really know what was worse. Spilling his guts about everything he went through, or listening to Willow give a ‘deconstructing Spike’ lesson about her experiences with his aura trail. And he almost lost it when Dawn explained her role in the nether realm-jumping trek.

Giles had filled Buffy in on the guardianship of Dawn, and his new citizenship. They had filled her in on everything that had been going on for the past month.

It had been a long and painful conversation. For everyone. Many tears shed by all. Not him, of course…well, not when anyone was looking anyway.

And now it was over, and the gang had gone to bed. After the long night, they decided to all crash there, instead of going to their respective homes. Plus, though the All had cleaned up the effects of the portal on the house in much the same way they had the rest of the dimension, they had left the effects of what Spike found out was his own emotions…his aura…controlling Willow’s magic. The living room was still a complete mess. So the group would work to get that fixed up tomorrow…later today.

Dawn had fed him thoroughly before she finally dragged off to bed, exhausted but happy. And he was recovering even now from the return to this reality. It would take a couple of days for the worst of the injuries to heal completely, and he looked like a walking bruise…or, that’s what Anya told him he looked like…but he could stand on his own two legs now, and even walk – if a little painfully.

Nibblet had set up the basement for him. Gave him a couple of sleeping bags and some more blood, just in case he needed it. She and Buffy were in Buffy’s old room – unwilling to be separated even while sleeping. Giles had given up the master bedroom and was in Dawn’s old room. Camping out, Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya had taken over the master bedroom. Everyone had gone to bed about an hour ago, exhaustion had started to slur their speech and make them muddle-brained.

And as tired as he was, Spike was the only one that couldn’t sleep. His mind was in too much turmoil, his emotions too shaken by everything that he’d been through. So he’d come out here to think. It was the first time in a long time that he didn’t mind a little down time. His normally frenetic nature had been subdued by the ramifications of everything he had done, and what he’d accomplished. He brought Buffy back from the dead. He’d cheated his own death. He was home, alive, and so were the two people he loved most on this miserable rock of a planet. A planet that he had worked to save and would continue to work to save.

It was all so big – so huge – that he couldn’t sleep yet.

The sky was lightening. There would be a new day dawning soon but he still sat there. He had time yet before he would have to go in and hide from the deadly rays.

When he heard the soft padding of bare feet approaching behind him, coming through the open kitchen door, Spike knew what he had been really waiting for. Somewhere deep inside him he had known she would come looking for him and he braced himself for whatever was coming.

Buffy sat down on Spike’s right and stared off into the darkness of the backyard. Neither one said anything.

Finally, it was Buffy that broke the comfortable silence…but it was Spike’s words she used to do it. “Well, this is just…neat. This remind you of anything, Spike? Of course, you don’t have your manly shotgun this go ‘round, and it’s not heaven. But, hey…you can’t have everything.”

Spike grinned at the girl’s spirit and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Trust me, pet. This place looks a sight better than heaven – that place wasn’t the most pleasant for me, ya know.”

“I know. Thank you, Spike. I didn’t say that before and I need to. Thank you for everything you did for me, for Dawn.”

Spike shook his head, “No, Buffy. Don’t thank me. You don’t ever need to thank me for that – for any of it.”

Buffy understood and nodded.

She was nervous, she wanted to tell him what was in her heart and even with her new balance and peace it wasn’t easy for her to tell this man she loved him. Even when she knew that he loved her, too.

“Spike…I have a confession…I know I told everyone that I didn’t want any secrets about the wicked fun little romp we had, but there was a couple of things I held back on. I’ll tell them, but I think you deserve to hear it first.”

Now, this was getting interesting. Spike’s ears perked up, and in much the same way he had in heaven, he thought, _confess away, pet._

She pulled in a deep breath before she started. “I told you that I wasn’t going to let you sacrifice yourself. I told you that I sent the female Oracle – bitch – back to the Powers demanding to get you back. But I didn’t tell you what happened when she came back.”

Spike frowned. As he recalled, she had. The sister came back, all shocked and amazed that the Powers didn’t know where he was, and then the ground started shaking.

Buffy got up, suddenly filled with nervous energy, and paced along the grass in front of the steps.

“When I saw her face, I knew something bad had happened to you. And then something happened, Spike. To me. As soon as I saw the look on the sister’s face I realized it – finally saw it – stopped denying it to myself. And it hurt so bad. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. Do you know what I’m saying?”

Spike thought he just might…but it was too much of a revelation to let it go like that. He grinned at her and shot her a slightly teasing glance. Suddenly everything about life…or unlife…seemed quite a lot better. “Might help if you actually said it, pet.”

Buffy stopped in front of him and knelt at his feet, staring up at him in much the same way he’d done to her in the other realm. “I realized that I love you, Spike. And when the Powers couldn’t find you, when I thought I lost you without telling you, it ripped me apart. I thought I’d never see you again – never tell you what was in my heart. That’s when I realized that time isn’t guaranteed to any of us. And then, later, when I saw your image in that weird little puddle the Oracles have, I knew I would get to see you again. I decided that, no matter what happens, no matter how long I live or you live or anyone lives, you have to be brave enough to accept love when you feel it. You have to let it in. No matter how…unconventional it seems to be. But I don’t need to tell you that do I? You’re a vampire in love with a Slayer, and you’ve always been man enough to admit it. I love you, Spike. And I want you with me. You’re in my gut, too. And you’re in my throat. You’re in my heart and I don’t ever want to let you go.”

Before she’d noticed he’d moved, Spike had slipped off the porch and pulled her up in his arms. She stared up into his blue eyes and smiled at the hungry and possessive gleam there. Mixed in with the passion was the love, she could see that too. And then his head was descending, and he captured her mouth in a searing kiss – and all thoughts fled on eagle’s wings.

Giving himself over to the wonder of the woman in his arms, Spike’s mouth plundered her soft lips, feeling them part under his questing tongue. He shook with the intensity of the feelings he had for her. It was blinding, burning him.

Pressing her body tightly to his length, feeling her arms wrap around him tightly, he knew that she was his just as much as he was hers. Finally his. She loved him.

Spike deepened the kiss, their tongues dueling in an erotic ballet. His hands framed her face and he pulled back from her lips, raining soft, gentle kisses along her chin and down to her neck, where he nibbled playfully. He felt her shudder and heard her moan his name.

It was so good. Perfect. They were perfect together. He’d always known they would be and now he had his chance to show her just how good they could be. They would soar together.

Rocked to the core, he rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to savor the delicious feelings her hands were giving him as they trailed from his back down to his waist and lower.

“I love you, Buffy. God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. So much.”

Spike glanced up at the sky and grabbed Buffy by the hand, pulling her into the house – moving quickly. She giggled a bit but didn’t resist. Once they were inside, he surprised her by turning her around and facing her towards the window. That wasn’t quite what she was expecting.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back into his chest. She leaned her head back and rested it on him.

“Spike, not that I’m not enjoying this, but what are we-”

“Shh. Stop talkin’, Buffy. Watch.”

As the unusual couple stood in an embrace in the kitchen of the house on Revello drive, the sun came up and painted the sky in brilliant reds, pinks, oranges, and golds. It was beautiful and breathtaking. And remarkably romantic.

“I may be a vampire, pet, but watching the sun come up on another day with the woman I love in my arms is just too good a thing to miss. And the great thing about indirect sunlight – no big pile of dust at the end of it all.”

Buffy smiled and turned around in his arms, brushing a hand down one chiseled cheekbone. “That’s a good. A big good. Can’t have the man I love fitting into a dust buster, as it tends to put a crimp in the relationship.”

Kissing her quickly, Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the basement…which is where she’d assumed he was pulling her before he gave her the wonderful surprise of watching the sunrise.

It was the beginning of a new day and all was right with the world for the time being. And when you’re the Chosen One, or a vampire helping the Chosen One, you take the brief moments when all is right in the world and you embrace them fully. You love each other. You find happiness and you make it your own. That’s what gets you through the tough times.

Love is always what gets you through the tough times.

 

 

 

 

~Fin


End file.
